When I lived in Mexico, back in the 80's, I used to mess around with doggerel. Here's one I wrote in August of 1989.
Ode to Ambrose Bierce
When you go down to Mexico
away down in the Tropics,
you'll find no friendly Texaco
and the folks aren't philanthropics.
In Ajijic or San Miguel
there's music in the air.
The beer is cheap, tequila's swell
and gringos everywhere.
The sun is bright, the palms are green,
the ladies are so Spanish.
But the nights can turn a little mean
and sometimes people vanish.
A lot of them just disappear
without a lot of traces
and no one sheds a single tear
and no one knows their faces.
So when you cross the border
to cantinas that are fierce,
be careful what you order
and remember Ambrose Bierce.
(Explanatory note: Bierce was a journalist and fiction writer who traveled to Chihuahua, Mexico, in 1913 to gain first-hand knowledge of the Mexican revolution. The 71 year old Bierce disappeared and was never seen again.)