Gigin alone at the bottom of the hill Our protagonist named Bill Sets his sights on an anchor steam pint All he, needs is thirteen quarters Congregated in his hat A crow, a scavenger type California redemption, provides him with his rent Room and board inside of, a fifth, of comfort The coins don't drop consistent as does the mercury His meter slows realizing a zenith He's reached perfection No one did see him die No one did see him die No one did see him die