KNITTERS CHRISTMAS EVE

I got this in my email today, and thought it was cute enough to share.



KNITTERS CHRISTMAS EVE



`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 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 a bit thick,

I knew in a moment it must be St Nick.

But what I heard then left me perplex-ed,

For not a name I heard was what I expected,

"Move, Ashford! Move, Lopi! Move, Addi and Clover!

Move, Reynolds! Move Starmore! Move Froelich --move over

Paton, don`t circle `round; stand in the line.

Come now, you sheep will work out just fine!

I know this is hard; 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 wooly 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 St Nick I did meet.

He was dressed all in wool from his head to his toe,

And his clothes were hand knit 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 espied a small label,

"S.C." 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 might really get through.

He put heels in 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!"