Twas the Night Before Christmas 'Twas the night before Christmas and all around me There was  unfinished crocheting 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 6" too small. When out on the lawn  there arose such a clatter, I put down my hook to see what was the  matter. Away to the window I flew like a flash. Tripped over my yarn and  fell down in my stash. The tangle of yarn that lay deep as the  snow Reminded me how far I still had to go. When out on the lawn I heard  such a noise, I was sure it would wake up both Dad and the boys. And  although I was tired--my brain a bit thick, I knew in a moment that it must  be St Nick. Yet what I heard left me very perplex-ed For nothing I heard  was what I expect-ed. "Move Rowan! Move Patons! Move Koigu and  Clover! Move Shelridge! Move Starmore! Move Spinrite! Move over! Lopi,  don't circle around, 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 wooly sheep on my lawn all  a-grazing! And then in a twinkle, I heard at the door Santa's big boots  stomping on the porch floor. I rose from my knees and got back on my  feet. As I turned around, St Nick I did meet. He was dressed all in wool  from his head to his toe And his clothes were hand crochet from above to  below. A bright Fair Isle sweater he wore on his back. And his toys  were all stuffed in an Aran crochet sack. His hat was a wonder of bobbles and  lace A beautiful frame for his rosy red face. The scarf on his neck  could have stretched for a mile, And the socks peeking over his boots were  Argyle. On the back of his mitts was an intricate cable. And suddenly on  one I spotted a small label: "S.C." in duplicate on the cuff. So I  asked, "Hey, Nick, did YOU crochet all this stuff?" He proudly replied,  "Ho, ho, ho, yes I did. I learned how to crochet when I was just a  kid." He was chubby and plump, a 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 down in his lap Where I had laid my crochet hook and  yarn for a cap. He began then to crochet, first one cap then 2-- 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 a scotch on the  rocks. Quickly like magic his hooks they flew, Good Grief! He was finished  by two! He sprang for his sleigh when I let him go free, And over his  shoulder he looked back at me. I heard him explain as he sailed past the  moon, "Next year, start your crocheting sometime around  JUNE!"