quoth the knitter, nevermore

the hilarity ensued on the ravelry remnants board.......

thanks to all who put this together, and thanks for letting me publish it!!!! if i've got any of it in the wrong order, please drop me a comment and let me know......and how to fix it!!!

BTW, somewhere down in stanza 15-16, the abbreviation WIP (usually stands for work in progress) should be pronouced like the word whip, not like three separate letters.

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QUOTH THE KNITTER, NEVERMORE!!!

Once upon a midnight dreary,
while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and complex pattern of forgotten lore-
While I knitted, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of someone gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
“Another knitter,” I muttered, “tapping at my chamber door:
Only this, and nothing more.”

Ah, distinctly I remember, it was in the bleak December
And my afghan Glowing Embers had just slipped down to the floor
For my books I was searching, from shelf to shelf was lurching,
Frantically researching, researching the lost Lenore,
The Sock Club socks for members only that the Harlot named Lenore,
Not for sale for six months more.

And the silken yarns in stash were so tempting soft and certain,
Thrilled me — filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating
” ‘Tis some knitter entreating entrance at my chamber door —
Some late knitter entreating entrance at my chamber door; —
This it is, and nothing more.”

Presently my socks grew longer: hesitating then no longer,
“Knitter or crocheter, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is, I was knitting, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my craft-room door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you”—here I opened wide the door;—
Darkness there, and nothing more!

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Can I meet the deadline no knitter ever met before?
Still the yarn runs on unbroken, knitting up my loving token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, ’Lenore!’
This I whispered, and an echo murmered back the word, ’Lenore!’ –
Merely this, and nothing more.

Back into the craft room turning and my soul; for yarn was burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
“Surely” said I “surely that is something at my crafty stash;
Let me see then, what thereat is, and this Mystery Stole explore -
Let my needles be still a moment and this Mystery Stole explore:
Tis a knitter - nothing more!”

Open here I flung my basket, compact yarn and needle casket,
Out rolled a ball of Raven purchased months before.
Not the least project planned it, simply did I have to have it,
But, with sheen so soft and seemly, did it my eyes implore,
Into my shopping cart I gathered four,
Gathered, hoarded, nothing more.

Then this lustrous wool beguiling my new fancy into smiling,
By the worn and boring sweater from the Walmart store.
‘Though thy colours dark are many,’ I said, ‘my choice worth every penny,
Will always make a garment that leaves me wanting more–
Will I finish off that project before using these skiens four?’
Quoth the Knitter, ‘Nevermore’.

Much I marveled this luxuriant wool to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning - little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no knitting human being
Ever yet was blessed with cashmere yarn above her chamber door -
Self-striping upon the needle jar above her chamber door -
With such name as “Nevermore!”

But the cashmere sitting lonely on that needle jar formed only
That one word as if its skein in that one word it did outpour.
Nothing further then it uttered - not a soft strand then it fluttered -
Till I scarcely more than muttered, “other skeins have failed before -
On the morrow it will fall short, as my skeins have failed before.”
The cashmere said, “Nevermore!”

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
“Doubtless,” said I, “what it utters is its only stock and store,
Tink’d by some unhappy knitter, whom unmerciful Gauge Measure
Followed fast and followed faster, till its plys one burden bore
Of ‘Never - nevermore.’”

But the Cashmere still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of skein, and jar, and door;
Then, upon an afghan sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this dark cashmere of yore -
What this soft, luxuriant, variegated, now ominous skein of yore
Meant in forming “Nevermore.”

This I sat engaged in guessing, while no syllable expressing
Of the cashmere whose beautiful firey dye now into my eyes did bore
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the intricate cabled lining of the never finished cover
But these twisted stitches entwining on the unfinished cover
Seemed to spell out nevermore

Then methought the craft grew denser, the yarn black hole! my knitting’s tenser,
As the hours lengthen yet the project touches not the floor.
‘Why?’ I cried, ‘When gauge is right, the rows increase into the night,
Yet inches stay the same - should I return to dear Lenore?
No! Finish this, and then pick up Lenore.’
Quoth the Ravelers, ‘There’ll be more.’

"Project,” said I, “WIP of evil! Evil still if wool or cashmere!
Whether I shall finish thee or toss thee here aside
Saddened, angry, yet undaunted, by this project witch enchanted
On this yarn by trouble dogged, tell me truely, I implore?
Will I ever meet the deadline–tell me, tell me, I implore.”
Quoth the cashmere, “Nevermore!”

“Project,” said I, “WIP of evil! Evil still if wool or cashmere!
By the pointed sticks between us, by the rabbits we both adore,
Tell this knitter so frustrated if a clever way does exist
To make amends and finish this long task I so abhor,
To mend my ways and so complete this task I so abhor.”
Quoth the cashmere, “Nevermore”

“Be that word our sign of parting, yarn or fiend,” I shrieked, upstarting
“Get thee back into the stash room and be banished and ignored
Leave no inch length as a token of that lie thy skein hath spoken,
Leave my knitting time unbroken! Quit the jar above my door!
Take thy fibers from my heart, and take thy skein from off my door.”
Quoth the cashmere, “Nevermore.”

And that cashmere, ne’er unwinding, still is twining, still is twining
On the dusty jar of needles just above my chamber door;
And those plies have all the seeming of a demon’s that is dreaming,
Dreaming of unfinished projects left in tangles on the floor,
Cursing cast-ons yet unthought-of, cursing second socks galore,
To be finished – nevermore!
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and for just a little dose of unreality (not that we really needed any more, after this work of genius!!), let's go on to something a little more campy............
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A long, long time ago,
in an LYS far away,
God said “Let there be WIPs”

It’s just a knit to the left
And a purl to the ri-i-i-i-ight
Watch your stash give you fits
In flourescent li-i-ight
But it’s the knitted swatch
that really drives you insa-a-a-a-ane
Let’s knit that sock once again
(repeat)
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i'm not telling what that's a filk of, you should all really get that bottom stanza.........it still makes me giggle!!!!!

thanks again to all the crazy folks at ravelry........this was an absolute hoot, and my drogo still thinks i'm nuts!!!