Twas the night before Christmas and here on my land
I was tearing my hair, strand by strand by strand
Different I said this year would be
I’d have time to sit and enjoy the tree
But alas you know what it is they say
When you’ve become so set in your ways:
You’ve got to flexible; learn to adapt.
I’ve often thought that was a load of crap
I was going to be ready; my knitting complete
This Christmas the kids would have warm “little” feet.
As the day fast approached I changed the plan
I don’t knit as fast as I think I can
Of the nine big kids, I’d finished eight
I’d much prefer they didn’t wait
Pair number ten was not nearly done,
But she’d never know; she’s not yet one.
Frantically I knit on pair number nine
Not willing to admit, I’d run out of time
I was just beginning to decrease for the toe
(The heel was also needed, just so you know)
Saturday night had turned into Christmas morn
When I admitted defeat; I was just too worn
I just couldn’t make a morning deadline
But by supper I presented a finished pair nine.
I continued to push to finish the last
And this would be part of Christmas past
I finished sock one visiting Christmas Eve
One final sock was all it did leave
Boxing Day morning by the light of the tree
I knit and drank my first cup of coffee
Alas that was where things went a wry
I so wanted to poke a needle in my eye
Too soon I started to decrease my rows
With not enough room for those cute little toes
Rip it all back and start the toe again
I knew I would finish someday, but when?
Second time through is really the charm
I should not have been quite so alarmed
Ten kids; twenty socks. It’s really done
This year before December thirty-one.