Poetry

There is this herb that tastes so nice
It’s not that kind it’s not a spice
In a roll it has to go
Then sit back and smoke it slow
It takes awhile to get a hit
But there is no stopping once its lit
It’s not that easy to explain the taste
Once you start they’ll be no waste
Right to the tip you’ll smoke it down
That’s what makes your fingers brown
Horrible stains all over your fingers
Even the smell on your clothes it lingers
But what the hell who gives a toss
Its up to you, you are the boss
So roll a spliff and just sit back
It does no harm its not like crack
Just an herb that we call weed
Like any plant it’s grown from seed
From smoking this plant you’ll come to no harm
It gives you a feeling a feeling of calm
So what is the problem with making it legal?
It is no different from smoking embassy regal
So the family of royals they just have to go
To make the way for legal blow