Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the towns
All the knitters were knitting, but all with long frowns.
The socks were unfinished, the scarves were not done
With the thought that Christmas would come with the sun.
The children were sent to sleep into their beds,
While I sat and wondered, no cap to be Fred’s!
And Bizzy with a sweater, yet to be complete,
We’d settled our brains for an undo-able feat.
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I dropped my knitting to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
At such great speed that I knocked over my stash!
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave the luster of mid-day to objects below.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a wise old knitter, smiling, with no fear.
This was a master knitter, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St Nick.
More rapid than eagles his stitches they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name!
“Now cast on! now, purl two! now, knit one and purl three!
YO, five knits! YO, three purls! YO, knit two and purl thee
To the end of the row! To the spot of the mark!
Now casting off! Casting off! Casting off all!”
As fine soft wool before the fast spinning wheel flies,
When faced with a hard project, he looked for the prize.
So into my knit room, the knitter he flew,
With a bag full of yarns and many patterns too.
He looked at our projects and looked at the clock,
And then he said in a voice that did not mock,
“You might not be finished but do not despair
Spend time with your loved ones while you finish with care.”
“The gift will be doubled, the joy will be more.”
And away did he fly, right out the front door.
But I heard him exclaim, ‘ere he left with that wit,
“Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-knit!”