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I believe it goes like this
It was the night of the party and all through the town not a pig was stirring not a cop around the joints were all rolled and piled in stacks in hopes that by midnight we’d be stoned to the max we drink Seagrams seven and smoke Panama red while visions of munchies, that through our heads, then all of a sudden knock at the door we all hit the floor and shouted pigs, but what to our stone hazy eyes should appear a pound of Colombian and two kegs of beer. The man at the door just stood with a smile, so we invited him in to party a while he sat in the corner and began to roll. So we brought out a pipe and sparked up a bowl and as he flew into the sky, he said marijuana to All and to all a good high. 
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