Pater Noster Herbae (Our Father of Herb)
The priest swung a smouldering censer
Acrid smoke billowed up in thick plumes
The aroma twas a delight to the nostrils
Ina trance like state he chanted out loud
O sanctissimus herb of love and wisdom
Glory unto thee sacred grass of learning
O bestow us with thine eternal strengths
And show unto us thy therapeutic graces
Sanctissimus herbs of good mighty God
The high priest carried on his herb liturgy
He reverently praised most sacred herb
Giving thanks unto God for his bud love
He was filled with the spirit of holy weed
His smouldering billowing censer swung
Like a pendulum of hypnotic bilssful fog
The eager congregation breathed in deep
The spirit of herb did descend upon them
Their minds were ascended up most high
And were filled of jubilations and knowing
The universal spirit of love did unite them
By holy smokes they were divinely stoned
The high priest looked on with a big smile
He had love and care for his herb brethren
Her cherished them with the sacred grass
The leaf of mystic wisdom and divine light
He blazed their soul, lovingly stoning them
Sharing with them God’d holy green herbs
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