The Smokers

Lincoln Roth: Twas the night before a party, when all through the town, no pigs were stirring, no cops were around. Lincoln Roth: We drank Seagram's, and smoked Panama Reds, while visions of the munchies danced through our heads Lincoln Roth: But all of a sudden, came a knock at the door. We all yelled 'Pigs' and hit the floor. Lincoln Roth: But what to our red-glazed eyes should appear? A fucking pound of Colombian, with two kegs of beer. Lincoln Roth: The man at the door flashed us a smile, so we said 'come on in, man, you should party a while. Lincoln Roth: But we heard him exclaim, as he flew through the sky: Marijuana to all, and to all a great high!