He was pretty cool
For a columnist
Work for forty years
At the San Francisco
Chronicle
He was there with Kerouac
Looking for kicks
And the merry pranksters
And all their tricks
He was at the love-ins
Passing around gin
Or at the orgies
Trying to crash in
He was an advocate
For gay pride
And when punk came along
He went for the ride
He had a soft spot
For couriers on bikes
And when he got cancer
San Francisco threw him a wake
Before he died
400 hundred messengers
Rode past Herb
A 400 glass martini salute
The rest of the day was Herb Caen day
50 cent martinis and a lot
Of puking
Herb died quietly three months later
