Poem by Randolph Trow

Art by Lucas Eglin

T’was the Night before Weed Day, when all through the house

No creatures were stirring, not even a mouse;

Their buds hung by the chimney with care,

In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there;

The children were nestled all snug in their beds,

While visions of Christmas Tree danced in their heads;

Then I in my house, with a good brew in my lap, 

Had just settled down for a short spring nap,

When out of my garden there arose such a clatter,

I slumped in my chair to see what was the matter.

Away to the window I looked for a flash,

Saw between the shutters and through to the sash.

The moon on the breast of the newly-grown crop

Gave a luster of midday to the weed in the shop,

When what to my wondering eyes should appear,

But a miniature truck, approaching first gear,

With a little old driver with such a small dick,

I knew in a moment it must be Saint Nick.

Less vapid than sloths his helpers they came, 

And he whistled and shouted and called them by name,

“Now Dew, now Ding, now Dody, now Dank,

Let’s get to it, we’re later than a yank!”

To the top of the porch, to the top of the wall,

Now dash away, dash away, dash away all!”

As the leaves before the wild hurricane fly,

When met with a good bud, oh it felt like the sky!

So up to the driveway his coursers they flew,

With a truck full of smoke, and St. Nicholas too.

Then in a twinkling I heard at the door, 

The inhaling and exhaling of each little spore.

As I rose in my chair and was turning around, 

Into the room St. Nicholas came with a bound.

He was dressed in all rags, from his head to his foot,

His clothes all tarnished with ashes and soot;

A bundle of bud he had swung on his back,

And he looked just like a peddler just opening his pack.

His eyes, how they twinkle, his expression, how merry!

His irises like roses, and the pupil, a cherry!

His mouth was drawn up like a bow,

And the smoke in his nose was as white as the snow;

The stump of a joint he held tight in his teeth,

And the smoke, it encircled his head like a wreath;

He had a broad round face and a huge round belly,

That shook when he smoked, like a bowl full of jelly.

He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,

And I laughed when I saw him in spite of myself;

A wink of his eye and a “hey man” was said,

Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread; 

He spoke not a word but went straight to his work,

He filled all the bongs, and turned with a jerk,

And laying a finger with powder under his nose,

And giving a nod, out of the house he rose;

He slunk into his truck, to his team gave a whistle,

And away they all flew smoking down and thistle.

But I heard him exclaim, ‘for he drove out of sight,

“Have the best night of all, and may your trip sitter treat you right!”