The Ballad of Miss Mary Jane

     The Ballad of Miss Mary Jane

          To the tune of ‘The Ballad of John Barleycorn’

There were three men came out to the West

Their fortunes for to find

And these three men made a solemn vow:

That Mary Jane must die!

They harrowed, they plowed, they planted her in

Threw clods upon her head;

And these three men made a solemn oath:

That Mary Jane was dead!

They let her lie for a very long time

‘Til the rains from Heaven did fall

And then Lady Jane sprung up her head

And so did amaze them all.

They let her stand ‘til mid-summer day

And she looked both bushy and frayed;

And then Lady Jane grew a thick, thick bud

And so become a maid.

They’ve hired men with the scythes so sharp

To chop her down to die

They tied her and bound her upside-down

And left her there to dry

They’ve hired men with the scissors sharp

To cut her leaf from shell

And the smokers, they served her worst of all

For they cast her into Hell!

And that was the death of Miss Mary Jane

Yet she lived to tell the joke;

For they sealed her inside of a ziplock bag

And they called her seedless smoke.

And little Miss Jane and the nut-brown bowl

And the pipe filled full of grass

And little Miss Jane and the nut-brown bowl

Proved the strongest maid at last.

For the truckers will not haul that load

Nor the rockers sing like they’re insane

Nor the hackers write a line of code

Without a little Mary Jane.