Every You down in You-ville liked Dankmas a lot, But the Greench, who lived north of You-ville, did NOT!
The Greench hated Dankmas! The whole Dankmas season! Now, please don't ask why. There were plenty of reasons. It could be his head wasn't screwed on quite right. It could be, perhaps, that his wallet was tight. But I think that the most likely reason of all May have been that his profit margins were two sizes too small.
Whatever the reason, his profits or pride, He stood there on Dankmas Eve, scheming inside, Staring down from his tower with a sour, Greench frown At the warm lighted windows below in their town.
For he knew every You down in You-ville beneath Was busy now, tending their Dankmas Tree wreath. "And they're planting their seeds!" he snarled with a sneer. "Tomorrow is Dankmas! It's practically here!"
Then he growled, with his Greench fingers nervously drumming, "I MUST find some way to keep Dankmas from coming! For, tomorrow, I know all the You girls and boys Will wake bright and early. They'll rush for their joys! And then! Oh, the joy! Oh, the joy! Joy! Joy! Joy! That's one thing I hate! All the JOY! JOY! JOY! JOY!"
Then the Yous, young and old, would sit down to a feast. And they'd feast! And they'd feast! And they'd FEAST! FEAST! FEAST! FEAST! They would feast on Dank-pudding, and rare You-roast beast, And they'd grow their own medicine, without any permission, No doctors required, no pharmaceutical prescription!
And THEN they'd do something he liked least of all! Every You down in You-ville, the tall and the small, Would stand close together, with Dankmas bells ringing. They'd stand hand-in-hand. And the Yous would start singing!
They'd sing! And they'd sing! AND they'd SING! SING! SING! SING! And the more the Greench thought of this You-Dankmas-Sing, The more the Greench thought, "I must stop this whole thing! Why, for fifty-three years I've put up with it now! I MUST stop this Dankmas from coming! But HOW?"
Then he got an idea! An awful idea! THE GREENCH GOT A WONDERFUL, AWFUL IDEA!
"I know just what to do!" The Greench laughed in his throat. "I'll call up my friends! We'll make propaganda of note! I'll team up with Hearst, who owns all of the papers, And DuPont, who profits from synthetic fiber capers, Together we'll spin such incredible lies, That the Yous will believe them and won't realize!"
So he gathered his cronies, that terrible crew— Anslinger, the bureaucrat (racist through and through), Hearst with his papers, DuPont with his schemes, And together they plotted to crush the Yous' dreams.
They invented new stories! They made up new names! "Devil's Lettuce!" "Assassin of Youth!" they proclaimed. "It makes you go crazy! It makes you quite violent! (Though evidence showed that the Dankmas Tree's silent, And peaceful, and healing, and actually quite good— But facts weren't important. Just fear was. Understood?)"
They bribed all the lawmakers with bags full of cash, They corrupted the politicians in one giant splash! "Make it illegal!" the Greench loudly demanded. "Arrest all the Yous! Leave them empty-handed! Take their Dankmas Trees! Their seeds! Their whole crop! We'll build bigger prisons! This must never stop!"
And so in nineteen-thirty-and-seven it came, The Marihuana Tax Act—oh, what a shame! The Greench had succeeded! The law was now passed! The freedom of Dankmas couldn't possibly last!
He sent out his agents to You-ville below, To rip up the Dankmas Trees, row after row. They arrested the Yous! They took all their stuff! They said, "Justice is served!" But it never was just.
The Greench even claimed, with a terrible smirk, "If a Dankmas Tree's found where a You happens to work, Or lives, or just walks by, or stands, or just sits, We'll take all their property! Every last bit! Their houses! Their savings! Their cars and their land! All because of a plant that grew where they stand!"
He made non-crimes into crimes with a stroke of his pen, He imprisoned the Yous—women, children, and men. He profited greatly from each You he'd jail, From each Dankmas Tree lost, from each tragic tale.
And while Yous sat in cages for possessing a plant, The Greench sold them pills—"Here's what you should want! Forget your Dankmas Tree, forget what you knew, Take OxyContin instead! It's much better for you!" (It wasn't. It killed them. But profits were great, And the Greench never cared about anyone's fate.)
For decades this lasted. The Greench grew more rich, While You-ville below suffered. Life became a pitch Dark nightmare of prisons, of families torn, Of communities ravaged, of futures foreclosed.
But then something happened the Greench didn't plan...
In You-ville below, there lived one peaceful man. His name was just Brad, and he sang just one song, A simple sweet melody, four minutes long. He sang about freedom, about growing in peace, About how the Greench's cruel lies ought to cease.
And one You heard Brad's song and started to sing, Then two! Then three! Then the whole town joined in! The song spread to neighboring towns, near and far, From You-ville to You-town, wherever Yous are!
They sang: "We won't follow the Greench anymore! We'll plant our own seeds! We'll grow like before! One seed at a time, in the ground it will go, And Dankmas Trees everywhere soon will grow!"
And they did! Every You took a single small seed, And planted it somewhere—in park, field, or mead. In gardens and alleys, in mountains and plains, The Dankmas Tree sprouted again and again!
The Greench was outraged! "This cannot stand still! I'll burn every plant! I'll bend them to my will!" He sent out his agents to cut and to burn, But for every tree destroyed, ten more would return!
He spent all his money on his crusade of hate, He hired more agents, expanded the state. He bought bigger prisons, more handcuffs, more chains, But the Dankmas Trees grew like spring after rains!
The Greench grew exhausted. His fortune was spent. His reputation was ruined. His will became bent. The people no longer believed what he'd say, Even his own enforcers began walking away.
"We won't arrest Yous for a plant anymore!" Said the agents who'd done it for decades before. "We've seen that your lies were just lies all along! The Yous were right! Their Dankmas Tree song!"
The Greench lost his power, his influence, his pride, While You-ville below flourished far and wide. The Dankmas Trees grew in every back yard, The Greench had lost everything. Lost every card.
And what happened then? Well, in You-ville they say That the Greench's small heart shrank three sizes that day! He slithered away to his tower up north, Forgotten by all, for whatever he's worth.
But the Yous down in You-ville, oh my, what a sight! They danced around Dankmas Trees morning to night! They grew their own medicine! They planted with joy! Every You-girl and You-man and You-girl and You-boy!
And Brad's simple song still echoes today, Reminding all Yous of that wonderful way: That power belongs to the people, not greed, That freedom can grow from a single small seed.
So remember, dear reader, as you read this small tale, When tyrants seem mighty, when freedom seems frail, One voice can become two, and two become more, And seeds planted with purpose can settle the score.
The Greench may return with new lies to spread, New schemes to concoct, new fear tactics to thread, But as long as the Yous stand together and strong, And plant seeds of freedom, and sing Brad's sweet song,
The Dankmas Trees will grow! They'll flourish! They'll thrive! And freedom and joy will remain alive! For the power of people, when united as one, Can outlast any Greench, outshine any sun.
So this Dankmas season, remember this well: Plant your seeds bravely! Let freedom's bells knell! And should any Greench try to steal what is yours, Just sing like the Yous did, throw open the doors!
For Dankmas belongs to the people, you see, Not to Greenches in towers who profit from misery. The Dankmas Tree grows for all those who believe That freedom's a right, not something Greenches can thieve.
And maybe the Greench, wherever he's gone, Has learned that his methods were flawed all along. That you can't kill a plant that's been here for so long, And you can't silence people who know they belong.
The Yous kept on singing! They grew and they grew! And that, my dear friends, is what we must do too.
THE END
"And the Yous, without licenses, permits, or banks, Kept planting their Dankmas Trees! And giving thanks!"
For Brad, whose song started it all, And for every You who answered the call, Who planted a seed, who refused to obey, Who brought back their Dankmas, who found a way.
Plant seeds of freedom, wherever you go, And watch how the Dankmas Trees grow and grow!
Happy Dankmas to all, and to all a good night! May your gardens grow green, and your future stay bright!
THE NIGHT BEFORE DANKMAS, READ ON...
