Archived at: http://www.alchemistmatt.com/twas/

Contains 849 versions of the classic poem, including headers from most of the posts and credits when available. The versions range from innocent and cute to vulgar and obscene, so read at your own discretion. I have collected most of these versions by searching the newsgroups using Google Groups and the now retired Deja News. I'd be happy to receive any additional versions you might have.

See the Main Index for the complete contents.

Short Title: SciSpaceHistory

Subject: Twas the night before Christmas and way out in space... 
Date: 02/24/2000 
Author: Matt Garrett  
Newsgroup: sci.space.history

Twas the night before Christmas and way out in space,
the Apollo 8 crew had just won the moon race.
The headsets were hung by the consoles with care,
in hopes that Chris Kraft soon would be there.
 
Frank Borman was nestled all snug in his bed,
while visions of REFSMMAT's danced in his head;
and Jim Lovell, in his couch, and Anders, in the bay,
were racking their brains over a computer display.
 
When out of the DSKY, there arose such a clatter,
Frank sprang from his bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the sextant he flew like a flash,
to make sure they weren't going to crash.
 
The light on the breast of the moon's jagged crust
gave a luster of green cheeses to the gray lunar dust.
When what to his wondering eyes should appear,
but a Burma Shave sign saying 'Kilroy was here.'
 
(Laughter)
 
But Frank was no fool. He knew pretty quick
that they had been first; this must be a trick.
More rapid than rockets, his curses they came.
He turned to his crewmen and called them by name.
 
Now Lovell, now Anders, now don't think I'd fall
for an old joke you've written up the wall.
They spoke not a word, but grinning like elves,
and laughed at their joke in spite of themselves.
 
Frank sprang to his couch, to the ship gave a thrust,
and away they all flew past the gray lunar dust.
But we heard them explain ere they flew around the moon:
'Merry Christmas to earth; we will be back there real soon.'

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Short Title: Scrapping

From: Lori Shay (shay02@insightbb.com)
Subject: Scrappy Christmas 
Newsgroups: rec.crafts.scrapbooks
Date: 2002-12-19 14:18:13 PST 

Hi all!  Mom sent me this, but did not include an author.  I love it, no
matter who wrote it!
  Lori
  Louisville

Twas the night before Christmas,
And all through the home,
Only one creature was stirring,
A late night scrapper alone.

While she cropped and she trimmed,
Under her breath she was muttering,
"He hid my darn Herma fix!"
The poor wife was stuttering!

When out on the lawn
There arose such a clatter,
She sprang from her table,
And dropped her Magic Matter.

Away to the window
She flew like a flash,
Thinking maybe it was UPS
Bringing more for her stash!

But what to her wondering eyes
Should appear,
But a miniature (die cut) sleigh
And 8 (punchie) reindeer!

With a little old driver
So lively and quick
She knew right away
It was Jolee old St. Nick.

He carried a sack
Filled up to the brim,
With paper packs, cardstock,
And templates crammed in.

There were punches, and stickers,
And eyelets galore,
There was even a Sizzix font
Not yet in the stores!

He went quickly to work,
Stowing it all under her tree,
The wire, the fibers,
And all Acid Free!

"Those Whale Punches are heavy!"
She heard him exclaim,
Then he turned to his reindeer
And called them by name:

"On Buyer and Stasher,
Puncher and Cropper.
On Scrapper, on Matter,
On Trimmer and Cutter."

And he sprang to his sleigh
But before he could leave,
The woman yelled, "STOP!"
And pulled a camera from her sleeve

She snapped some quick photos
For future keepsake,
Thinking all the while,
Of the layout she'd make!

And she heard him exclaim.
When she finally let him go,
"Happy Scrapping to All"
And to all, "HO HO HO!"


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Short Title: ScubaDive

Subject: 'Twas the Night Dive Before Christmas 
Date: 12/22/2000 
Author: Trace Malinowski  

'Twas the night dive before Christmas, when all around the sunken barque 
Not a pelagic creature was stirring, not even a shark;
My long hose was wrapped around my neck with great care,
But I spotted a stroke with a can of SpareAir;
 
The abalone were nestled throughout the kelp beds,
While shimmering fishies schooled past my head;
My buddy in his drysuit and I in my wet,
Had just descended the anchor line and on the bottom we met;
 
We were checking our gauges when we heard this strange clatter,
So we swam to the wall to see what was the matter;
We reached the edge swimming in a dash,
When something tore by us and flew down in a flash;
 
The illumination of our beams through particles of snow,
Gave a surreal luster to the object below;
When what to my wondering eyes did appear,
But Pipin's new sleigh ... and eight... no, nine... tiny reindeer? 
 
With a jolly old diver dropping through the dark,
I knew right away I must be quite narced;
More rapid than seagulls after ice cream,
This guy just kept going ... I swear... this wasn't a dream;
 
Now Pipin, now Mayol, now Umberto too,
Even Maiorca, his daughter and Costeau;
Have been known to freedive deep without fear,
And let's not forget that aquababe Grier;
 
But through the water column and far down the wall,
Santa and this sled continued to fall;
He was holding his breath and he was unmasked,
In order to take on his new found Christmas task;
 
The reindeer, however, were blowing bubbles,
Since they were clad in helmets and doubles;
So need to worry about the reindeer being hypoxic,
Or even about their oxygen becoming toxic;
 
For on each little cylinder stenciled in WKPP style,
Was a blend of trimix that would last quite awhile;
So don't be concerned with our little friends drowning,
Lots of stage bottles were D-ringed in their mountings;
 
Santa was Bodygloved from his toes to his chin,
And strapped to his feet were a pair of long-bladed fins;
A bundle of toys still clung to his back,
Held there in place by a Dive Rite Transpac;
 
His eyes were wide-open and his cheeks were so very...
Cold from the water ... what do you expect? ... it's almost January! 
At the bottom of the cable Santa reached his max depth,
He then began to ascend but let out a breath;
 
As my buddy and I peered into the night,
Rudolph's shiny red nose portrayed Santa's plight;
He was snagged on the cable... wrapped up like twine,
By that meanest of "grinches" -- monofilament line!
 
There was no time to lose, no time to waste,
Christmas must be saved, now and posthaste!
We wanted to save him, we wanted to go,
But, alas and unfortunately, our air supplies were low;
 
Just as I thought Christmas was off,
I borrowed an idea from David Hasselhoff;
A can of SpareAir would do the trick!
All I had to find was that stroke ... yeah... that dick!
 
My light panned the water frantically from left to right,
Searching the darkness... searching the night...
I picked him out quick as shot,
He was easy to find, easy to spot;
 
He wore mail order dive gear - everything bargain brand,
In his neon pink wetsuit jacket with those really weird fins ... 
  you know the revolutionary designed fins that are supposed to 
  out-perform all others and he even had the expensive ones with 
  those adjustable ratcheting whiskers and I mean ... gosh... 
  with all those suicide snaps clipped to his weightbelt he looked... 
  pardon me, I digress...
He looked just grand;
 
Anyway... I knew where to find it, I knew where to go,
His SpareAir was dangling from his torso;
I reached him, I grabbed it and took off lickedy-split,
It was up to me to save our St. Nick;
 
I made it to Santa and cut him away,
Pulled him from danger on Pipin's sleigh;
Sorry I had to let Santa's bag plummet into the abyss that nigh' 
So if your stocking was a bit empty, now you know why;
 
Long story short I made it on down
Thanks to yours truly, Santa didn't drown;
He may have had the record he may even have won,
But a freedive doesn't count if you breathe ... whether two breaths or one! 
 
The reindeer decompressed, Santa and I did too;
After all, a SpareDeath will save you from goo.
My buddy he ascended and on deck became sick,
But not before finding some Jimmy Buffet music;
 
So Santa, my buddy, the reindeer and I 
We got together to plan our next Christmas in July
And for all my heroism what did I win
The only thing Santa had left ... his long-bladed Rondine fins!
 
A P.S. to this story which ended happily for me and for you,
Unfortunately one diver failed to pull through;
When I grabbed his SpareAir to save our Santa bloke
I scared the fondu out of the stroke
 
He held his breath and overexpanded,
Deep down that wall his body has landed;
That's why he's gone ... my present to all here,
So, merry Christmas to you all and happy New Year!
 
Trace Malinowski
PDIC SCUBA Diving Instructor #2075
Freediving Instructor Trainer
Lifeguard Supervisor
http://hometown.aol.com/tracemalin/


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Short Title: ScubaSantaJaws

From: Rob and LeAnna Stephenson (lebert@alaska.net)
Subject: A Visit From Santa Jaws- Merry Christmas 
Newsgroups: rec.scuba
Date: 1999/12/25 

A Visit From Santa Jaws

Twas the night before Christmas,
And all round the shore,
Not a creature was stirring,
Not even the boat-owning poor.

The stockings were hung,
By the piers with care,
In hopes that Saint Nicholas,
Soon would be there.

For heavy snow had taken us,
Down to the Chandlery dry-dock,
Away from the holiday fuss,
To shovel and take stock,

While non-boating friends,
Lay snug in their bed,
My wife and I, had a Tolly to mend,
We decided to dive, having carried our lead,

We took off our clothes,
And peeled down to the skin,
And slipped on our drysuits,
For a mid winter swim.

When out of the darkness,
She let out a hoot,
I just saw a BIG shark,
In a Santa Claus suit!

Then the silence was broken,
By a terrible din,
Jingle bells ringing,
On a circling fin.

We swam and we swam,
To get out of its reach,
Til we thought we were finally,
Approaching the beach.

When what to our wondrous
Eyes should appear,
But a jolly white shark,
Who eats tiny reindeer.

Oh Dasher, oh Dancer,
Oh Prancer, and Vixen,
Oh Comet, Cupid,
Donner and Blitson!

Then one reindeer was left,
To pull the great sled,
Cute little Rudolph,
With his nose so RED!

And the monster looked at us,
And it really was weird,
A great white shark,
With a great white beard.

His teeth, how they glistened,
With his fins and his belly,
He laughed, HO HO HO,
Like six tons of jelly.

Well, we swam to the closest boat,
And tried to get in,
But the swimstep was blocked,
By the sharks giant fin.

His jaws opened wide,
To bite off my head,
But from deep down inside,
A voice quietly said,

Im not so bad,
Im really quite good,
But with all of those movies,
Im just misunderstood.

My Yule wish for men,
Is good will and world peace,
And all I want for Christmas,
Is a seal or two and maybe some geese.

And we heard him exclaim,
As he swam out of sight,
Merry Christmas to all,
And to all a good bite!

You better not boat,
You better not swim,
You better not float,
Cause your chances are slim,
Santa Jaws is coming to town!

Christmas 99
Modified, borrowed, (can't remember where from),
Rob Stephenson


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Short Title: Seder

Subject: 'Twas the night after Seder 
Date: 04/28/2000 
Author: Phillip Sego  
Newsgroup: rec.humor.jewish

 'Twas the night after Seder, and all through the house
  Nothing would fit me, not even a blouse.
  The matzah, the farfel, the charoset I ate,
  After both the Sederim, had gone to my waist.
  When I got on the scales there arose such a number!
  When I walked over to shul (less a walk than a lumber),
 
  I remembered the marvelous meals I'd prepared;
  The turkey with gravy, the beef nicely rared,
  The wine and the matzo balls, the Migdal pareve cheese
  The way I'd never said, "I've had enough; no more, if you please."   
  
  As I tied myself into my apron again 
  I spied my reflection and disgustedly, then 
  I said to myself, "you're such a weak wimp",
  "You can't show up at shul resembling a blimp!"
 
  So--away with the last of the meatballs so sweet,
  Get rid of the turkey, chopped liver and meat.
  Every last bit of food that I like must be banished
  'Til all the additional ounces have vanished.
 
  I won't have any more macaroons from the box,
  I can't wait til next week. (Ah, the bagels and lox.)
  I won't have any luxion, farfel or p'chah,
  I'll munch on a carrot or wire shut my own jaw.
 
  It's a three day yom tov and shabbas is still
  Ahead of me with another fleshiks meal to fulfill.
  If I have to cook one more chicken, I think I will riot.
  So a zissen pesach to all and to all a good diet!
 


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Short Title: Seniors

From: Kati McSweeney
Sent: Wednesday, December 21, 2005 8:40 PM

Senior's Night Before Christmas

'Twas the night before Christmas at Rock-Away Rest,
And all of us seniors were looking our best.
Our glasses, how sparkly, our wrinkles, how merry;
Our punch bowl held prune juice, plus three drops of sherry.

A bedsock was taped to each walker, in hope
That Santa would bring us soft candy and soap.
We surely were lucky to be there with friends,
Secure in this residence and in our Depends.

Our grandkids had sent us some Christmasy crafts,
Like angels in snowsuits and penguins on rafts.
The dental assistant had borrowed our teeth,
And from them she'd crafted a holiday wreath.

The bed pans, so shiny, all stood in a row,
Reflecting our candle's magnificent glow.
Our supper so festive -- the joy wouldn't stop --
Was creamy warm oatmeal with sprinkles on top.

Our salad was Jell-O, so jiggly and great, 
Then puree of fruitcake was spooned on each plate.
The social director then had us play games,
Like "Where Are You Living?" and "What Are Your Names?"

Old Grandfather Looper was feeling his oats,
Proclaiming that reindeer were nothing but goats.
Our resident wand'rer was tied to her chair,
In hopes that at bedtime she still would be there.

Security lights on the new fallen snow
Made outdoors seem noon to the old folks below.
Then out on the porch there arose quite a clatter
(But we are so deaf that it just didn't matter).

A strange little fellow flew in through the door,
Then tripped on the sill and fell flat on the floor.
'Twas just our director, all togged out in red.
He jiggled and chuckled and patted each head.

We knew from the way that he strutted and jived
Our social- security checks had arrived.
We sang -- how we sang -- in our monotone croak,
Till the clock tinkled out its soft eight-p.m. stroke.

And soon we were snuggling deep in our beds.
While nurses distributed nocturnal meds.
And so ends our Christmas at Rock-Away Rest.
'fore long you'll be with us, We wish you the best. 

Kati McSweeney
Canoga Park, CA


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Short Title: Sewing1

From: Kathleen Dyer (kdyer@dnai.com)
Subject: 'Twas the Night... 
Newsgroups: rec.crafts.textiles.needlework
Date: 2000-12-24 13:31:10 PST 

Hello, all.

I wrote and first posted the following poem in 1995, and have posted it
almost every year since.

Happy holidays.
Kathy


            An Minor Adaptation for Stitchers
                         of 
                   Clement Moore's 
              "A Visit From St. Nicholas"

              (adapted by Kathleen M. Dyer)

'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even my spouse;
The stockings weren't hung yet, as they were still where
I was frantically stitching them, pulling my hair;
Quite unlike my children, each snug in a bed,
While visions of mattresses danced in my head,
In my sweat pants and T-shirt and old baseball cap,
Drinking triple espressos, no time for a nap;
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter, 
I sprang from my chair to see what was the matter. 
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tripped over the tote bag, then threw up the sash.
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow 
Gave the look of metallics to objects below, 
When, what to my sleep deprived eyes should appear, 
But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer, 
With a little old driver, so lively and quick, 
I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick. 
Gliding like silk thread his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name; 
"Now, Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen! 
On, Comet! on Cupid! on, Donder and Blitzen! 
To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall! 
Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!" 

As floss scraps that before the wild hurricane fly, 
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky, 
So up to the house-top the coursers they flew, 
With the sleigh full of toys, and St. Nicholas too. 
Then, losing my needle, I heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof. 
As I let my thread fall, and was turning around,
Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound. 
He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot, 
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot; 
I snatched up my stitching and flung it far back,
For fear of the soot on his clothes and his pack.
His eyes -- how they twinkled! his dimples how merry! 
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry! 
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow, 
And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow; 
He looked like the chart I had bought for the reason
Of stitching it up for the holiday season.
He had a broad face and a little round belly, 
That shook, when he laughed like a bowlful of jelly. 
He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf, 
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself; 
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head, 
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread; 
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work
To fill all the stockings, but turned with a jerk. 
"And where are the stockings?"  He looked down his nose.
I handed them over, and blushed like a rose.
He finished his work, to his team gave a whistle, 
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle. 
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight, 
"Get done early next year, don't wait 'til the last night!"

-- 
Kathleen Dyer                |"Time has little to
Counted Cross Stitch, Needlework and Stitchery Page | do with infinity and
                       | jelly doughnuts."


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Short Title: Sewing2

Subject:      Merry Christmas!
From:         bejoyce@radix.net (Barbara Joyce)
Date:         1997/12/24
Message-ID:   
Newsgroups:   rec.crafts.textiles.needlework

Wishing each and every one of you a very Merry Christmas and a happy,
healthy and prosperous New Year.  Here's a little poem (not original!)
that I thought you might enjoy.

Barbara

'Twas the night before Christmas
When all through the land,
Only a cross stitcher was stirring
With a hoop in her hand.

The stockings were hung
By the chimney with care,
Only minutes after the last stitches
Were lovingly put there.

The children were nestled
All snug in their beds,
While visions of a handmade Christmas
Danced in their heads.

A knock on the door--
It was Santa quite jolly.
Her wore a red linen suit
Cross stitched with holly.

He stumbled on aida, floss and
Needles for sewing,
"With all this clutter
I really must be going!"

And she heard him proclaim
As he drove out of sight,
"Put your projects away,
It's the middle of the night!"

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Short Title: Sewing3

From: Lou (louisr@peoplepc.com)
Subject: 'Twas the Night Before Christmas 
Newsgroups: rec.crafts.textiles.needlework
Date: 2000-12-21 14:26:13 PST 
 
From Jan Hall: Member Services, Tickets, and RCTN'er Extraordinnaire
I wish you many hours of CATS (Cherished And Treasured Stitching) in
2001!!! I hope you enjoy this Christmas poem, it's my favorite. Happy Holidays :-)


'Twas the night before Christmas, and, oh, I was weary.
My stitching unfinished, my eyes getting bleary.
The stockings weren't finished, the chimney was bare.
And I knew that morning soon would be there.

My children and husband were tucked in their beds,
But visions of backstitches ran through my head.
I'd stitched ornaments and presents and gifts by the ton,
And now, I was finally, almost, almost done.

As I poised my needle for one more backstitch,
I heard something outside that made my hand twitch.
I jumped up from my stitching, and flew to the door,
Pressed my eye to the peephole, tip-toed off the floor.

My stitching forgotten, I peered into the night.
When suddenly, I got a terrible fright.
On my porch appeared Santa, holding his sack.
He knocked softly, and I took a giant step back.

I unlocked the deadbolt, and let Santa in,
He entered and gave a mischievous grin.
"Hope you don't mind if I come in the door?"
"Coming down the chimney can be quite a chore."

He said, "You're up late. Still working I see."
"Do you know how tired you're going to be?"
"I know, Santa," I said, with a sigh,
"But I'm still backstitching the stars in the sky,"

"And the fields on that stocking look blobby you know,
I need to backstitch the drifts in the snow.
I've been stitching and stitching and stitching, no rest.
I just tried to finish stitching too much, I guess."

"I know what you mean," he said with a smile.
"This is my busiest time of the year, by a mile."
He stooped down by the tree, and he opened his sack,
And began to pull presents out of his pack.

"I've got some things here I think you might like,
An oak stitching frame, and a brand new Ott-Light.
A bundle of floss, and a great big mat cutter,"
I smiled and felt my heart go a-flutter.

He put down gifts for us all, then he waved his right hand.
"Go to bed," he said, glancing at my floor stand.
He gave me a wink, and stepped out the door.
I just stood there a moment, glued to the floor.

After he'd left, I turned back to my chair,
Picked up the stockings, and started to stare.
The backstitching was done! The stars lit the sky!
And on my son's stocking angels sung on high.

I ran to thank Santa for this final gift,
And watched as his sleigh started to lift.
I heard him exclaim as he pulled out of sight,
"Merry stitching to all, and to all a good night!"

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Short Title: Sewing4

From: lissy b (lissybear@techline.com)
Subject: merry christmas from washington state 
Newsgroups: rec.crafts.textiles.needlework
Date: 2002-12-23 22:28:39 PST 
 
a stitcher's version.......

'twas the nigh before Christmas
and I in my chair
was stitching and stitching
much to despair

for the project wasn't done
Christmas just hours away
for a small miracle
I did pray and pray.

needle up needle down,
trying not to miss
groaning at a knot
as my floss did twist

then from my side
there arose a small clatter
I jump up to look and
see what was a-matter

then to my searching eyes
I did see
a cat making off
with DMC

I tossed down my hoop
and gave a chase
tripping over another cat
in my great haste

retrieving my floss
I dropped back into my chair
and resumed stitching
as fast as I dare

the stitches began to blur
and the pattern did swim
I was fighting a battle
I knew I couldn't win.

I tucked away supplies
and stood up to yawn
looked out my window
and witnessed the dawn

and I said to myself
as I quit for the night
Merry Christmas to all
and to all an Ott Light!


blessings to all no matter what the faith - we're all in this world
together.

--
8) lissy
cross-stitchers anonymous
charter member since 1981
1-800-stitch-fix
WIP: Peace To This Home, For the Love of Cross-Stitch, 9/02- reconfigured


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Short Title: Sewing5

From: Jessicat (jessicat@tabbygnat.com)
Subject: OT: Poetic Lisence 
Newsgroups: rec.crafts.textiles.needlework
Date: 1999/03/07 

'Twas the night before SOXS - It went without hitches.
All the stitchers were up stitching their "just one more" stitches...
The needlework widowers and widows had given up on their spouses
And had long gone to bed as had dogs, birds, and mouses.

Except for the stitchers who were visiting a last site -
Their mouses were busy as they had been all night!
Then from the Newsgroup rose a cry of sheer panic,
Posted by one of the illustrious Cross Stitch Fanatics!

In the rush and the stress of the stitching and packing
Chocolate snuck up on our Stitcher and it was attacking!
The Stitcher's fingers and face, her fabric and floss!
The Millennium Angel display it appeared now was lost!

From the tip of Two Thousand to the top of the design
Was a coat of rich chocolate, silky and fine!
The Angel, once fair, was now Cafe au Lait
And the hourglasses were full as though stitched that way!

The News Groupies who came from far and from near
Heard the alarm and shuddered in fear!
So long they had looked forward to this coming day..
No Glimpse of the Angel? They sobbed in dismay!

Then one by one, each stopped crying, their eyes shot a gleam!
"I will save SOXS!" each stitcher schemed!
Each ran to her workbox and searched though her stash,
Found her linen then began in a flash!

Her needle like lightening, the floss, dark and light,
Not one NewsGroup stitcher got any sleep that night!
They 'criss'ed and they 'cross'ed 'til their fingers were sore,
They 'x'ed and backstitched 'till the chart showed no more...

Then they all rolled their work and glanced at their clocks,
Ran combs through their hair and they all left for SOXS.


What happened to all the Millennium Angel pieces? Did TW actually stitch a
reasonable facsimile of the hand-dyed linen behind her copy? I'm rhymed out,
but after 'dreaming' it this far, I couldn't let it go... someone else want
to pick it up? Any suggestions?  All references to 'Stitchers' refer to
people of my own imagination - any similarities to anyone you know is pure
co-incidence or a guilty conscious on your part. ;-)
Jessica


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Short Title: Sewing6

Author:   Kathy
Email: DeSchuit@ix.netcom.com
Date: 1998/11/17
Forums: rec.crafts.textiles.quilting

          Twas the Night before Christmas
                          by
Brenda Groelz, Kathy Rockbugs, Marilyn Root, Cindy Swafford

'Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house,
The only one sleeping was Quilter's dear spouse.
The Log Cabin stockings were almost completed,
"Just a few stitches left, "our sweet quilter repeated,
"Then I can hang them and head to off to finish
The pillows I'm making, fulfilling Mom's wish
For something "quilty" to put on her couch",
As she pricked her poor finger, our quilter yelled, "Ouch!"

.....When from out in the kitchen there arose such a crashing,
She sprang from her work , and she dropped all her sashing.
Away to the doorway she flew like a plane,
Wondering just what was happening and who she could blame.
When what to her wondering eyes should appear,
But Old Mrs Claus and her bag of quilt-gear....

.....With her elves bearing gifts, through the kitchen she came,
She directed and pointed and called them by name.
"Now Elna, now Pfaff, now Bernina and Viking,
The Hoffman and Mumm should be just to her liking.
To the sewing room - there, it's just back the hall,
Now dash away, dash away, dash away all!"

"My Dear," said The Claus (as she liked to be called),
There really is no need to worry at all.
Your projects will all be completed this night,
I'm terribly sorry we gave you a fright.
Sit down. Have some tea. It's relaxing, you'll see.
My friends and I've come a long way to help Thee.
She thought she was dreaming, our Dear Quilter did,
In fact she quite feared that she'd near' flipped her lid!
But the flash of the needles and twist of the thread
Soon gave her to know she had nothing to dread.

They spoke no more words, but went straight to their sewing.
How the work went so quickly she had no way of knowing.
The stitches, how tiny! The corners, how straight!
This Claus-woman's talent was awfully great.
They finished the pillows, then started a quilt.
Before they all knew it, the whole thing was built!...

Now old Mrs. Claus, she knew quilters real well,
And she knew they'd need help on this night most of all
So she said to our quilter, "Just move over, dear,
I've brought my own needle. We'll get done, never fear.
I told dear old Santa about what quilters do.
How they plan all these projects but have other work too.
So he taught me his magic for doing things fast.
There, that pillow's done. Now this is the last."

They tidied their thread snips, and picked up the scraps
And chased our dear quilters six cats from their laps.
They left behind gingerbread (just to be nice)
And the whole house smelled sweetly of Christmas and spice.
As they scurried away with their thimbles still gleaming
Dear Mrs. Claus paused, her cap ribbons streaming.
"Merry Christmas, my dear, now just have a ball!
Relax and enjoy. Happy Quilting to all!"

--
Lisa Brown
Bloomington, IN


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Short Title: Sewing7

From: Joan Skoglund (njskog@hiwaay.net)
Subject: Re: Christmas quilt poem 
Newsgroups: rec.crafts.textiles.quilting
Date: 1995/11/18 

This poem was pubished in Quilting Today, Issue No. 9, Oct/Nov. 1988.
It is called:

Ode to a Quilter, by Gloria E. Webster
(with apologies to Clement Moore)

'Twas the night before Christmas and all through the housse
not a creature was stirring except a wee mouse
and Mama in her kerchief, still stitching away
to finish a quilt for the very next day.

"I've done one for Steve and one for sweet Sue.
There's one for young Paul and my Sarah, too.
If only I finish this last one tonight,
little Mary will surely cry with delight!"

Then out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
she jumped from her chair to see what was the matter.
"Now what's all that noise," she thought with a frown,
"I do hope the old chimney's not falling down!"

She peered out the window and what did appear 
but a miniature sleigh and eight tiny reindeer -
With a little spry driver, so lively and quick,
she knew it certainly was not old Saint Nick!

And in a twinkling she heard on the roof
the prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
Then down the chimney he came, dressed all in red.
She thought she was dreaming and still in her bed!

He was clad all in fur from his head to his foot
and he called out to her, "You should clean out that soot!"
"Clean out that soot? No time to sew?
Young man, you're crazy - now go, go, GO!
I must finish this quilt before the morning light.
I've been sewing all day and most of the night."

He danced as he worked, a right jolly old elf,
and she laughed as she watched him, in spite of herself.
Then he filled all the stockings from his patchwork sack.
It was stuffed to the brim and hung on his back.

He gave a quick nod and when he was through,
smiling at her, up the chimney he flew.
Dazed, she wondered if that really might be...
"No," she murmured, "my eyes are playing tricks on me."
And grimly she put needle to cloth once again.
"Next year, truly, on January First I'll begin,
no more sewing and quilting on the very last night.
These weird dreams are too much." Then she turned out the light.
"Yes, next year I'll be organized.  I'll be done on time."
("Ho, ho," chortled Santa, "Seems I've heard that line.")

Now her quilts were all wrapped and under the tree;
Of course, not all were complete - it just couldn't be.
But tucked into two boxes were notes with this line:
"To be finished after Christmas - Mom ran out of time!"

And Santa was heard to exclaim as he drove out of sight,

"Merry Christmas to all - and happy quilting each night!"


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Last Modified January 7, 2007