Poem About Tourists From a Native-Born Las Vegas Dweller

Tourists,

How our economy needs you to survive.

Tourists,

How I hate the way you drive.

Tourists,

How I wish you'd hurry up and go.

Tourists,

How can you afford the money you blow?

Sin City is where you all flock, 

To gamble away your stock, 

While the natives suffer the traffic hell, 

To hate you and need you does not bode well.