The Great Smoke Off!


Now in the laid-back California town of sunny San Rafael

Lived a girl named Pearly Sweetcake – you probably know her well

She was stoned 15 of her 18 years, and her story was widely told

that she could smoke them faster than anyone can roll

Well, her legend finally reached New York, that Grove Street walk-up flat

where dwelt the Calistoga Kid, a beatnik from the past

He’s been rolling dope since time began, now he took a cultured toke

and said “Jim, I can roll them faster than any CHICK can smoke”

So a note gets sent to San Rafael for the championship of the world

the Kid demands a smoke-off; “Well bring him on!” says Pearl

“I’ll grind his fingers off his hands! He’ll roll until he drops!” says Calistog,

“I’ll smoke that chick till she blows up and pops”.

So they rent out Yankee Stadium, and the word is quickly spread

come one, come all, who walk or crawl, tickets just two lids a head

and from every town and hamlet, over land and sea

they speed the world’s greatest dopers, with the world’s greatest weed.

Hashishins from Morocco, hemp smokers from Peru

and the Shashniks from Bagun (who smoke the deadly Pu-ga-ru)

and those who call it “light of life” and those that call it “boo”.

See the dealers and their ladies, wearing turquoise lace and leather

See the narcos and the closet smokers, puffing all together

from the teenies who smoke legal, to the ones who’ve done some time

to the old man who smoked “reefer”, back before it was a crime.

And the grand old House That Ruth Built is filled with the smokes and cries

of fifty thousand screaming heads, all stoned out of their minds

and they play the national anthem, and the crowd lets out a roar

as the spotlight hits the Kid and Pearl, ready for their smoking war.

At a table piled up high with grass, as high as a mountain peak

just tops and buds of the rarest flowers, not one stem branch or seed

I mean, Maui Wowie, Panama Red, Acapulco Gold

Kif from East Afghanistan, and that rare Alaska Cold

and there’s sticks from Thailand,

ganj from the island,

and Bangkok’s blooming best

(and some of that wet imported shit that capsized off Key West).

There’s Oaxacan tops and Kenya bhang, and Riviera fleurs

and that rare Manhattan Silver, that grows down in the New York sewers.

And there’s bubbling ice cold lemonade, and sweet grapes by the bunches

and there’s Hershey bars and Oreos (in case anybody gets the munches)

And the Calistoga Kid he smiles, and Pearly she just grins 🙂

and the drums roll low, and the crowd yells “GO GO GO!!”

and the world’s first smoke-off begins.

Well, the Kid he flicks his fingers once, and ZAP that first joint’s rolled

Pearl takes one toke with her famous lungs, and WHOOSH that roach is cold

Then the Kid he rolls his super-bomb, that would paralyze a moose

and Pearl takes one mighty hit, and …… that bomb’s defused

and then he rolls three in just ten seconds, and she smokes them up in nine

and everybody sits back and says “Hey…. this just might take some time”

See the blur of flying fingers, see the red coal burning bright

as the night turns into morning, and the morning fades to night

and the autumn turns to summer, and a whole damn YEAR is gone

and the two still sit, on that roach-filled stage, smoking, and rolling

With trembling hands he rolls his Js, with fingers blue and stiff

She coughs and stares with bloodshot gaze, and puffs through blistered lips

And as she reaches out her hand for another stick of gold

the Kid, he gasps, “Damn it, bitch! There’s nothing left to roll!”



And she reaches ‘cross the table and grabs his bony sleeves

and crumbles his body between her hands, like dry and brittle leaves

flicking out his teeth and bones like useless stems and seeds

Then she rolls him in a Zig-zag, and lights him like a roach

and the fastest man, with the fastest hands, goes up in a puff of smoke.

In the laid-back California town of sunny San Rafael

Lives a girl named Pearly Sweetcake – you probably know her well

She been stoned 21 of her 24 years, and her story is still widely told

how she still can smoke them faster than any dude can roll

While, off in New York City, on a street that has no name

there’s the hands of the Calistoga Kid, in the Viper Hall of Fame

and underneath his fingers, there’s a little golden scroll

that says “Beware of being the roller When there’s nothing left to roll”.

3 thoughts on “The Great Smoke Off!

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