A Visit From St. Knit-olasFilked by Sue (Yosemiteelp) and Jim Michael (Sableat5)
‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the stash
Not a needle was knitting, I was all out of cash;
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
All knit in intarsia and lace if you dare;
The cashmere was nestled in soft little skeins,
“It’s saved for a project!” a knitter explains;
Mamma in her lace shawl, and I in my vest,
Had just settled down in our fiber filled nest,
When out on the lawn I perceived a kerfuffle,
Untangling my scarf, to the window I shuffled.
In order to get there before break of day,
I had to clear project bags out of the way.
The soft drifts of fiber on the floorboards below
By the glow of the night light looked like new fallen snow,
As I managed to get my chin up to the sill,
St. Nick and his reindeer came over the hill,
His hand crocheted hat and Selbuvotter mittens,
Looked as soft and as warm as a basket of kittens.
Like a fast spinning swift his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;
“Now, Mohair! Alpaca! now, Camel and Rayon!
On Needle, on Marker! on Cable! and Cast On!
Fly on to the knit shop! it’s less than a mile!
We’ll bring one more project to add to the pile!”
As fibers that though the skilled spinner’s hands fly,
When carded too briskly will mount to the sky,
So up to the house-top the coursers they flew,
With the sleigh full of knitting, and St. Nicholas too.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard through the ceiling
A clatter of needles that sent my head reeling.
As I picked up my knitting, I turned fast enough,
To see St. Knit land in a blizzard of fluff.
He was dressed in hand knits, from his head to his toes,
For knitting is timeless as everyone knows;
A bundle of wonders he had on his back,
He pulled projects! yarn! needles! from deep in his sack.
The yarn – how it sparkled, the pattern, how daring,
I knew the techniques with my friends I’d be sharing,
The sweater was cabled, the sleeves they were steeked,
And parts of the pattern just begged to be tweaked;
The scarf was fair isle in a curious pattern,
With the bright moon and stars and the rings around Saturn;
The hat was of lace, both knit and crochet,
‘Twould keep my hands busy for many a day.
He wrote a fine pattern, this jolly old elf,
And I gasped when I saw it, in spite of myself;
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know he’d leave plenty of thread;
He spoke not a word, but with straights he did knit,
More stockings so all of the goodies would fit,
And laying his needles aside of his nose,
And dropping a skein, up the chimney he rose;
He sprang to his sleigh, ‘neath the shinning aurora,
And away they all flew like a wisp of angora.
But I heard him exclaim, with sparkling wit,
“Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good knit.”
.JPG)
