Foggy-from-dope man’s
monomaniacal goal:
to have a hash pipe stuffed into his mouth
till his eyes begin to roll.

Foggy-from-dope man
sees fairy-tale sights each day.
Sometimes he’ll snort blow
to stay awake, though
it’s toking that’s his forte.

Foggy-from-dope man
will send alcohol away.
When he hauls his ass into Spanish class
he’ll giggle and slowly say:
“Nunca tocaré Tokay.”*

He has to have a hash hit;
synapses nearly shut down.
But the visions dance in his head,
so he’ll smoke another pound.

Stoned foggy-from-dope man
isn’t acting too lively.
To get high each day, he spends all his pay,
then looks at the world blithely.

Foggy-from-dope man
knew the cops would come his way.
When the time had come,
the police said, “Bum,
the judge will put you away!”

Foggy-from-dope man
now has a long prison stay.
There’s a moral nigh: You wanna get high,
smoke in states where it’s OK.

Puffety-puff-puff, puffety-puff-puff—
he’ll do that no more.
Humpety-hump-hump, humpety-hump-hump:
Each night his cellmate scores.


*I’ll never touch Tokay