A Knitter's Night Before Christmas

NEW TWIST FOR KNITTERS ON
'TWAS THE NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS
(based on a friend's post in the Knitting Help Forum)

'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 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 expected

"Move, Ashford; move, Lopi; move, Addi and Clover.
Move, Reynolds; move, Starmore; move, KnitPicks--move over!
Patons, don't circle round; just stand there in line!
Pay attention you sheep and you'll work out just fine!
I know this is hard as it's just your first year
But I'd hate to go back to 8 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
'Ol Santa's big feet marching on 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 Fair-isle 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 "Saint 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 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 placed knitting needles and yarn for a cap.
He soon began stitching, first one cap then two;
For the first time, I thought that I'd really get through!

He put heels on the stockings, and toes in some socks,
While I relaxed, drinking some 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 peered back at me.
I heard him exclaim as he sailed past the moon,
"Next year start your knitting sometime around June!"