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December 24, 2021
2 min read
‘twas the night before Christmas and all in the shopWas perfectly arranged from bottom to top
Ginni, her sweater so perfectly fittingHad just settled down for an evening of knitting.
When out on the wharf there arose such a clatter,She jumped from her chair to see what was the matter
The moon on the bay cast a beautiful glow. So taken was Ginni she stopped knitting mid row
“It’s OK,”she said coolly, “I’m a professional. I never mess up—I’m just that exceptional”
“I know this story,” she said without pause. “Any moment the wharf will host Santa Claus. “
But it wasn’t Santa ensconced in the sleigh Certainly not. That would be too cliché
Instead it was Ellen holding the reins.With a team of white sheep and a sleigh full of skeins.
In a pink sweater of Custom Fit fame, She rallied her sheep and called them by name:
"On, Polwarth on Leicester on Shetland and Cormo,On Targhee, on Cotswold, Herdwick, and Merino!"
From the top of the hill to the tree on The Square,Those sheep pulled the sleigh, and soon they were there.
At the front of the shop she arrived with her haulAnd was greeted by Mary who was knitting a shawl.
And Jenny was there, with sock yarn sublime. Working a pair, of course, two at a time!
Then Ginni arrived, with bobbins a-flutter, “Working intarsia” we all heard her mutter.
Why were we gathered here late at the store? This finest of teams, each one I adore.
We’re here to say something to our friends near and far:
With love, Ellen, Ginni, Mary, and Jenny
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