Peter Piper the drug lord

In a small town long ago

They had a problem it was hobos

They sat on their asses

And refused to make stashes

Until Peter spoke up

 

"The mayor tried poison

The mayor tried traps

The even gave us some handicaps

I know a place where we can go

We just have to go on toe"

 

They snuck out of town with no one around 

They went to a field

And the followers yield

A bounty of treasure with no ones repiel

 

They go off their asses

And made some stashes

Then went to town

And made a pound

 

Cops found the stashes

And burnt them to ashes

Peter went to jail

And got impailed

Learn from Peter

Drugs are for greeders

Theyll do you wrong

Like this ol' song

Comments

Additional Resources

Get AI Feedback on your poem

Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.
 

 

If You Need Support

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741