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The White Undertaker
by
Alice C. Bateman
I smoke and I hate it
So help me to quit
Don't make me resent you
By bitching a bit
Why do they sell them?
I scream at the ashtray
Why do I smoke them
Day after day?
They sell them in drugstores
And restaurants and bars
And bus stations where
We can't smoke anymore
These little white tubes
All laden with cancer
Guilt and denial
Pursue the smoke dancer
So legalize pot
And give us a break
Pile your taxes on that
For all of our sakes
A medicinal herb
Used by healers for ages
Taboo of a sudden?
This is outrageous!
I'd rather that I could
Inhale Mother Nature
Than machine-made smooth death
The White Undertaker
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