'Twas An Herbal Night Before Christmas

‘Twas the night before Christmas

When all through the domicile

Not a creature was stirring

Not even a Chamomile

Empty capsules were hung

By the chimney with care

In hopes that St. John’s Wort

Soon would be there

The herbs were Nettled

All snug in their beds

While visions of Golden Rods

Danced through their heads

And mama in her Cowslip

And I in my Skullcap

Had just settled down

For a Hop cup of Pine Sap

When down in my stomach

There arose such a clatter

I took some Ginger but

That didn’t matter

Away to the bathroom

I flew like a flash

Tore open the Lobelia

And threw up . . .

Then, what to my Wandering Jew did appear

But a Marshmallow sleigh

And eight tiny Red Raspberries

And a little old plant

So lively and tart

I knew in a moment

It must be St. Wort

As he Thistled, and Sprouted

And chomped Irish Moss

With the skill of a chef

A salad he tossed

Now Ginger, Now Yarrow

Now Hawthorne and Barley

On Ginseng, On Clover

On Squawvine, and (of course) Parsley

On the top of the heap

On the top of the pile

He placed Chaparral and

A dash of Pimpernel

(For those who many not recognize the names of all these herbs,

don’t worry . . . it’s all Fenugreek to me too).

And then, in a twinkling

I heard on the roof

The prancing and dancing

Of Deerberry and Wild Horsehoof

As I came to my Senna

And was turning Asurum

Down the chimney St. John’s Wort

Came like a Plum

He was covered in Prickly Ash

From his stems to his stalks

He was garnished with Valerian

So he smelled like dirty socks

A clove of Garlic

He held in his Palm

And he looked like a Goilead

Who’d just lost his Balm

His Eyebrights – how they twinkled!

His Juana – how Mari

His cheeks were like Rose Hips

His nose like a Cherry

He was a very Chic Weed

Drove a racey Pinto Bean

And he shook when he Yucca’d

What a wild, wild scene

He was chubby and plump

A right holly old Hock

And I laughed when I saw him

In spite of my shock

A Slip of his Elm

And a Flax of his Seed

Soon gave me to know

He was nothing but Weed

He spoke not a word

But went straight to his work

Filled all the capsules

With Barberry Bark

Then laying his root

Aside of his stalk

Which is no small task – but Yerba Santa’s a jock!

He has tennis elbow, football knee

And Mistle Toe!

He sprang to his sleigh

To his team gave a whistle

And away they all flew

Like the down of a Thistle

But I heard him exclaim

This one last Dande line

“Gotu Kola to all

And to all a good Thyme!!!”

The Endive

This version of Twas the Night Before Christmas ran in an old issue of The Herbalist newsletter many years back. We found it and thought that those of you reading this blog would find some enjoyment reading it. And that's what this season's about right?

Have a safe and happy holiday!