[video=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GVfE_-ZJAxc] The Great Smoke Off First appeared as a poem in Playboy in 1978by Shel SilversteinNow, in the laid-back California town of sunny San RafaelLived a girl named Pearly Sweetcake - you probably knew her wellShe was stoned 15 of her 18 years, and her story was widely toldThat she could smoke 'em faster than anyone could rollWell, her legend finally reached New York, that Grove Street walk-up flatWhere dwelt the Calistoga Kid, a beatnik from the pastHe'd been rollin' dope since time began, now he took a cultured tokeAnd said, Jim, I can roll 'em faster than any CHICK can smoke So a note gets sent to San Rafael for the championship of the worldThe 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 spreadCome one, come all, who walk or crawl, tickets just two lids a headAnd from every town and hamlet, over land and sea they speedThe world's greatest dopers, with the world's greatest weed.Hashishers from Morocco, hemp smokers from PeruAnd 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 leatherSee the narcos and the closet smokers, puffing all togetherFrom the teenies who smoke legal, to the ones who've done some timeTo 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 criesOf 50,000 screaming heads, all stoned out of their mindsAnd they play the national anthem, and the crowd lets out a roarAs 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 peakJust tops and buds of the rarest flowers, not one stem, branch or seedI mean, Maui Wowie, Panama Red, Acapulco GoldKif from East Afghanistan, and that rare Alaska ColdAnd there's sticks from Thailand, ganj from the island,And Bangkok's blooming best(and some of that wet imported $hit That capsized off Key West).There's Oaxacan tops and Kenya bhang, and Riviera fleursAnd that rare Manhattan Silver, that grows down in the New York sewers.And there's bubblin' ice cold lemonade, and sweet grapes by the bunchesAnd there's Hershey bars and Oreos (in case anybody gets the munches)And the Calistoga Kid, he smiles,And Pearly, she just grinsAnd 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 rolledPearl takes one toke with her famous lungs, and WHOOSH that roach is coldThen the kid he rolls his super-bomb, that would paralyze a mooseAnd Pearl takes one mighty hit, and ...... that bomb's defusedAnd then he rolls three in just ten seconds, and she smokes them up in nineAnd everybody sits back and says, Hey.... this just might take some time See the blur of flying fingers, see the red coal burning brightAs the night turns into mornin', and the mornin' fades to nightAnd the autumn turns to summer, and a whole damn year is goneAnd the two still sit, on that roach-filled stage, smokin', and rollin'...onWith tremblin' hands he rolls his jays, with fingers blue and stiffShe coughs and stares with bloodshot gaze, and puffs through blistered lipsAnd as she reaches out her hand for another stick of goldThe Kid, he gasps, Damn it, Bitch! There's nothin' left to roll! NOTHIN' LEFT TO ROLL! screams Pearl. IS THIS SOME TWISTED JOKE?I DIDN'T COME HERE TO FUCK AROUND; MAN, I COME HERE TO SMOKE! And she reaches 'cross the table and grabs his bony sleevesAnd crumbles his body between her hands, like dried and brittle leavesFlicking out his teeth and bones like useless stems and seedsAnd then she rolls him in a zig-zag, and lights him like a roachAnd the fastest man, with the fastest hands, goes up in a puff of smoke.In the laid-back California town of sunny San RafaelLives a girl named Pearly Sweetcake - you probably know her wellShe been stoned 21 of her 24 years, and her story is still widely toldHow she still can smoke 'em faster than any dude can rollWhile, off in New York City, on a street that has no nameThere's the hands of the Calistoga kid, in the Viper Hall of FameAnd underneath his fingers, there's a little golden scrollThat says, Beware of bein' the rollerWhen there's nothin' left to roll .