In Praise of Weed

While in these strange existences, when troubled lives we lead,
despairing of our happiness, a cheerful soul we need—
a friendly, warm, and loving look, an optimistic creed,
we need an anti-pessimist! We need, in short, the Weed!

When all our little fantasies, like Catherine’s, start to bleed,
he offers to us soothing balms, if we his words will heed.
‘Tis wisdom to his kindly wit our attitudes to cede;
‘tis wisdom, too, to hail his name! All praise the clever Weed!

He is our fellow-traveller! And, like a mighty steed,
he bears us from low-lying lands where cares and troubles breed.
And like the ancient sower, in us he plants his seed
of mustard (genus: Dijon). So, thank our friend the Weed!

Without his careful minist’ring, we’d be left in our greed,
like fishes in a barrel or cats by grim dogs treed.
And so we raise a toast to you, of non-fermented mead,
for all you do and all you are. All hail the mighty Weed!