The Night Before Kushmas

Twas the night before Kushmas, when all thro’ the house,
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse;
The bongs and rigs were set on the table with care,
In hopes that Kush Kringle soon would be there;
The stoners were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of moonrocks danc’d in their heads,
And Mama in her beanie and I in my cap,
Had just settled our brains for a long stoner’s nap-
When out on the lawn there arose such a bubbling,
I sprang from the bed to see what was so troubling.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters, and hid away the stash.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a minature hippie bus, and eight flying rein-deer,
With a little old driver, smoking a single.
I knew in a moment it must be Kush Kringle.
he coughed, and shouted, and call’d them by name:
"Now! Hashy, now! Frosty, now! Smokey, and Ziggy!
"On! Cosmic, on! Chronic, on! Shaggy and Scooby;
"Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!”
So up to the house-top they flew, with the bus full of full of weed - and Kush Kringle too.
And then in a moment, I heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Down the chimney Kush Kringle came with a bound:
He was dress’d all in tie-die, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnish’d with ash and soot;
A bundle of buds was flung on his back,
And he look’d like a hippie just opening his sack.
His eyes - how they blazed red! his dimples how merry,
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry;
His gentle little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow;
The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath.
He was chill and groovy, a right jolly old hippie,
And I laugh’d when I saw him, it was so fucking trippy
A wink of his eye and a bow of his head
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And packed all the bowls, leaving each of us, a nice little perk.
And laying his finger aside of his nose
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose.
He sprung to his bus, to his team gave a toke
And away they all flew, in a big plume of smoke:
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight-
Like, merry Kushmush all, and to all a good night man.

Comments

[Winter Fox]

greatest poem ever