[Nfb-krafters-korner] Knitters night before Christmas

[Blindhands at aol.com]

I loved this one.  Thank you so much.
 
Joyce  Kane
_www.KraftersKorner.org_ (http://www.krafterskorner.org/) 
Blindhands at AOL.com   

 
In a message dated 12/25/2013 11:05:07 P.M. Eastern Standard Time,  
ballstobooks at gmail.com writes:

Not  mine, but something to share tonight!
A Knitter's Night Before  Christmas

'Twas the night before Christmas and all around me
Was  unfinished knitting not under the tree.
The stockings weren't hung by the  chimney with care
'cause the heels and the toes had not a stitch  there.

The children were nestled all snug in their beds
but I had  not finished the caps for their heads.
Dad was asleep; he was no help at  all,
And the sweater for him was six inches too small.

When out on  the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I put down my needles to see what was  the matter.
Away to the window, I flew like a flash,
Tripped over my  yarn and fell down with a crash.

The tangle of yarn that lay deep as  the snow
Reminded me how much I still had to go.
Out on my lawn, I heard  such a noise,
I thought it would wake both dad and the boys.

And  though I was tired, my brain was a bit thick,
I knew in a moment, it must  be Saint Nick.
But what I heard then left me perplexed-ed,
For not a  name I heard was what I had expected
"move, Ashford; move, Lopi; move,  Addie and Clover
Move, Reynolds; move, Starmore; move, Fraylic-move  over"
"Paton, don't circle round; stand in line.

Come now, you sheep  wool work just fine!
I know this is hard semi, it's just your first  year,
I'd hate to go back to eight tiny reindeer."
I peered over the  sill; what I saw was amazing,
Eight woolly sheep on my lawn all  a'grazing.

And then,in a twinkle, I heard at the door
Santa's feet  coming across the porch floor.
I rose from my knees and got back on my  feet,
And as I turned round, Saint Nick, I did meet.

He was dressed  all in wool from his head to his toe
And his clothes were handknit from  above to below.
A bright Fairisle sweater he wore on his back,
and his  toys were all stuffed in an Aran knit sack.
His cap was a wonder of bobbles  and lace,
A beautiful frame for his rosy red face.

The scarf round  his neck could have stretched for a mile,
And the socks peeking over his  boots were Argyle.
The back of his mittens bore an intricate cable,
And  suddenly on one I spied a small label.
SC was duplicate stitched on the  cuff,
and I asked "Hey Nick, did you knit all this stuff?"

He  proudly replied "Ho-ho-ho, yes I did,
I learned how to knit when I was a  kid."
He was chubby and plump, a quite well-dressed old man,
And I  laughed to myself for I'd thought up a plan.

I flashed him a grin and  jumped up in the air,
And the next thing he knew he was tied to a  chair.
He spoke not a word, but looked in his lap
Where I'd laid my  needles and yarn for a cap.

He quickly began knitting, first one cap  then two;
For the first time I thought I'd really get through.
He put  heels on the stockings and toes in some socks
While I sat back drinking  Scotch on the rocks!!

So quickly like magic, his needles they  flew,
That he was all finished by quarter to two.
He sprang for his  sleigh when I let him go free,
And over his shoulder he looked back at  me.
And I heard him exclaim as he sailed past the moon
"Next year start  your knitting sometime around  June."



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