I read today that the average age of the 30 most popular Christmas songs is 61 (Thanks you Harper’s Index). So I figured, “Hey, if people can listen to the same old Christmas songs they’ve heard a million times, every Christmas, they won’t mind rereading this old Christmas classic that first appeared in Savage Henry #7, The Holiday Issue, way back in 2010.”

In the spirit of holiday tradition, and with apologies to my most dedicated readers, here we go again. Happy Holiday of Choice.

‘Twas the Night Before Christmas in Humboldt

‘Twas the night before Christmas and all through Humboldt County
Not a creature was stirring, not even Sheriff Mike Downey
The herb was all trimmed up and packed into bags
For smokers of taste, who will not smoke swag
Me in bed naked, my wife in her panties
It’s that time of month, so it’s the ones that are ratty
When out at the gate there arose such a racket
I got out of bed and threw on my jacket
Put on some pants and picked up my rifle
So they’d know I was serious and not to trifle
I stepped out of the door and into the rain
“To be out in this shit, this guy must be insane”
I thought to myself as I trudged up the path,
“This better be good or he’ll feel my wrath”
What did my dumb struck eyes then behold,
But a bearded old man in a late model Olds
I yelled, “It’s Christmas Eve, are you out of your mind?”
He said, “I’m Jewish, you’re Pagan, why’s this a bad time?
My friends all need weed, and I’ve plenty of cash,
At $3,000 a pound, I’ll take your whole stash”
I thought to myself, “Well that’s quite a laugh,
These days I’d a probably sold it for half.”
He showed me a bag that was packed full of bills
So, I opened the gate and we drove down the hill
I made up some coffee, and rolled up a jay
And showed him a few of the buds on the tray
He said, “This is the stuff that my friends all love.
They say that your stuff is a cut above.
They’ll pay what I ask for all I can get.
Did you have a good year? Is it all trimmed up yet?”
“This year I grew more than ever before,
It’s weighed up in bags just behind that door.
You can inspect it while I count this cash,
Hand me that ashtray, and I’ll knock this ash.”
We packed all the weed in the trunk of his car.
I said, “You found me out here, you must know where you are.”
“Oh yes, he said, “I know my way around here,
And I’ve many more stops to make, far and near.”
He started the car, and then turned on the lights,
And I heard him say, as he drove out of sight, “Marijuana to all, and to all a good night.”

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John Hardin blogs at Like You’ve Got Something Better To Do.