There is a modest man from Croatia
Heart of gold and will of steel
His voice is pure California—
A terraneous voyage behind the wheel.

As we commence our solo rally,
He serenades the skies of Napa Valley
His tessitura is sweet as homegrown wine
And richer than the richest September vine

With a range containing the Altamont Hills,
He speckles melisma in flakes of falsetto
Just as the land is dotted with windmills
Commanding more energy than they’ll let you know

He hikes his falsetto up into Tuolumne
Deceptively vast, you’ll hear it in Mariposa...