Puff and Stuff

He puffed the magic dragon Till he was ninety-three And frolicked in a smoky mist Beneath the ganja tree With little pipes and papers He loved to huff and puff It made him think such silly things And munch a bunch of stuff All red-eyed he would travel With puff deep in his pouch To blaze a trail thru rain or hail Or tatered on the couch But then one day of sorrow He could find no puff no more And from then till the morrow Was jonesing on the floor Without his lifelong friend He died lonely in his cave Tho everyone that knew him Laid sticky hops on his grave Now he puffs the magic dragon Above both you and me And frolics in a smoky mist Beneath the ganja tree