In the laid-back California town of sunny San Rafael
Lived a girl named Pearley Sweetcake, you prob’ly knew her well
She’d been stoned fifteen of her eighteen years and the story is widely told
That she could smoke ’em faster than anyone could roll
Her legend finally reached New York, that Grove Street walk-up flat
Where dwelt the Calistoga Kid, a beatnik from the past
With long browned lightnin’ fingers, he takes a cultured toke
And says, «Hell, I can roll ’em faster, Jim, than anyone 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 Calisto, «I’ll smoke that twist 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, price — 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
Hashishers from Morocco, hemp smokers from Peru
And the Shamnicks from Bagun who puff the deadly Pugaroo
And those who call it Light of Life and those who call it boo.
See the dealers and their ladies wearing turquoise, lace and leather
See the narcos and the closet smokers puffin’ 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 smoke 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 smokin’ 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.
Maui Wowie, Panama Red and Acapulca Gold
Kif from East Afghanistan and rare Alaskan Cold
Sticks from Thailand, Ganja from the Islands, Bangkok’s Bloomin’ Best
And some of that wet imported shit that capsized off Key West
Oaxacan tops and Kenya Bhang and Riviera Fluers
And that rare Manhattan Silver that grows down in the New York sewers
And there’s bubblin’ ice-cold lemonade and sweet grapes by the bunches
There’s Hershey’s bars and Oreos, ‘case anybody gets the munchies
And the Calistoga Kid he sneers, and Pearley she just grins
And the drums roll low and the crowd yells, «GO!» and the world’s first
Smoke Off begins.
Kid flicks his magic fingers once and ZAP! that first joint’s rolled
Pearl takes one drag with her mighty lungs and WOOSH! that roach is cold
Then the Kid he rolls his Super Bomb that’d paralyze a moose
And Pearley takes one super hit and SLURP! that bomb’s defused
Then he rolls three in just ten seconds and she smokes ’em up in nine
And everyone sits back and says, «This just might take some time.»
See the blur of flyin’ fingers, see the red coal burnin’ bright
As the night turns into mornin’ and the mornin’ fades to night
And the autumn turns to summer and a whole damn year is gone
But the two still sit on that roach-filled stage, smokin’ and rollin’ on
With tremblin’ hands he rolls his jays 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, «Goddamn 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 she grabs his bony sleeves
And she crumbles his body between her hands like dried and bitter leaves
Flickin’ 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 Pearley Sweetcake, you prob’ly know her well
She’s been stoned twenty-one of her twenty-four years, and the story’s
widely told
How she can still smoke them faster than anyone 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 bein’ the roller when there’s nothin’ left to roll.»