My Robot Is Pregnant theme song!

Back in ’49 you could take a squirt of piss and call it gold juice and some fellah with greennhorns would buy it for the price of a whiskey barrel. They had no idea what this part of the world was all about. Saw a lot of people go broke more’n anything. We were living as west as you could get and dreamers were thick as horse shit in the gutters. Wherever you find that many dreamers you’ll find twice as many deceivers. The Marshals weren’t any help, it’d be like sending a whore to drive the devil back to Hell. Surely she knew the way, but Satan was the one who showed it to her. And by all that I mean them Marshals was the crookedest bacon frying in the pan. What pan? Oh, don’t matter, I’m starting to lose track of it all myself. It’s hard enough thinking when my boots are on the ground, so have a little patience with me while I’m swinging from this tree. I don’t suppose you’d cut me down from here? No, they’d string you up for trying. What happened to the good ol’ days, back when shooting the shoeshine boy and stealing a horse were what men did? It weren’t no crime per se, just boys being boys is all. San Francisco sure changed mighty quick. Well, it’s gettin’ hard to breath up here with this itchy old horse rope around my throat. Would’a been nice if they put a little iron in my boots to be sure my neck snapped quick. No luck there of course. It’s been a bad day from the moment that shoe shine boy laughed at my broken heel. We’ll just have to see how the rest of the day pans out before we call it a wash, huh pardner? Maybe I’ll have some fortune here and stop breathin’ before a bear comes wandering down the trail and eats me from the toes up. I see you got to get going, so take care out there. Remember it ain’t such a wild west anymore. Careful where you go shootin’ and all. Take care. So long.