Una poesia che ci descrive come le merlettaie si riuniscono prima di Natale per terminare gli ultimi lavori.<\/strong><\/p>\n Qu\u00ec di seguito troverete la poesia in inglese intitolata\u00a0 Crocheters’ Night Before Christmas.<\/strong> Se avete difficolt\u00e0 nel comprendere le parole potrete utilizzare lo strumento che Google<\/a> ci fornisce per le lingue<\/a> .<\/p>\n (oldie, but a goodie) The children were nestled all snug in their beds, When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter, The tangle of yarn that lay deep as the snow And although I was tired\u2013my brain a bit thick, \u201cMove Rowan! Move Patons! Move Koigu and Clover! I know this is hard as it\u2019s just your first year And then in a twinkle, I heard at the door He was dressed all in wool from his heat to his toe His hat was a wonder of bobbles and lace On the back of his mitts was an intricate cable. He proudly replied, \u201cHo, ho, ho, yes I did. I flashed him a grin and jumped up in the air, He began then to crochet, first one cap then 2\u2013 Quickly like magic his hooks they flew, \u00a0Fonte: Hooked On String<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Come avevamo detto precedentemente, la passione delle ricamatrici e quella delle merlettaie si trasmette anche attraverso l'arte del poetare. <\/p>\n Nel sito Hooked On Stri<\/a> in lingua inglese, ho trovato questa poesia dedicata all'uncinetto.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Una poesia che ci descrive come le merlettaie si riuniscono prima di Natale per terminare gli ultimi lavori.<\/strong><\/p>\n Quì di seguito troverete la poesia in inglese intitolata Crocheters' Night Before Christmas.<\/strong> Se avete difficoltà nel comprendere le parole potrete utilizzare lo strumento che Google<\/a> ci fornisce per le lingue<\/a> . <\/p>\n <\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[7],"tags":[444,443,177],"class_list":["post-392","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-ultime-notizie","tag-merlettaie","tag-poesia","tag-uncinetto"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.arte-ricamo.eu\/it\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/392","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.arte-ricamo.eu\/it\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.arte-ricamo.eu\/it\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.arte-ricamo.eu\/it\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.arte-ricamo.eu\/it\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=392"}],"version-history":[{"count":7,"href":"https:\/\/www.arte-ricamo.eu\/it\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/392\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":3904,"href":"https:\/\/www.arte-ricamo.eu\/it\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/392\/revisions\/3904"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.arte-ricamo.eu\/it\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=392"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.arte-ricamo.eu\/it\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=392"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.arte-ricamo.eu\/it\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=392"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
\n<\/strong>
\n~ Author Unknown ~
\n\u2018Twas the night before Christmas and all around me
\nThere was unfinished crocheting not under the tree,
\nThe stockings weren\u2019t hung by the chimney with care
\n\u2018Cause the heels and the toes had not a stitch there.<\/p>\n
\nBut I had not finished the caps for their heads.
\nDad was asleep\u2014he was no help at all.
\nAnd the sweater for him was 6\u2033 too small.<\/p>\n
\nI put down my hook to see what was the matter.
\nAway to the window I flew like a flash.
\nTripped over my yarn and fell down in my stash.<\/p>\n
\nReminded me how far I still had to go.
\nWhen out on the lawn I heard such a noise,
\nI was sure it would wake up both Dad and the boys.<\/p>\n
\nI knew in a moment that it must be St Nick.
\nYet what I heard left me very perplex-ed
\nFor nothing I heard was what I expect-ed.<\/p>\n
\nMove Shelridge! Move Starmore! Move Spinrite! Move over!
\nLopi, don\u2019t circle around, just stand there in line.
\nPay attention you sheep and you\u2019ll work out just fine!<\/p>\n
\nBut I\u2019d hate to go back to 8 tiny reindeer.\u201d
\nI peered over the sill. What I saw was amazing:
\nEight wooly sheep on my lawn all a-grazing!<\/p>\n
\nSanta\u2019s big boots stomping on the porch floor.
\nI rose from my knees and got back on my feet.
\nAs I turned around, St Nick I did meet.<\/p>\n
\nAnd his clothes were hand crochet from above to below.
\nA bright Fair Isle sweater he wore on his back.
\nAnd his toys were all stuffed in an Aran crochet sack.<\/p>\n
\nA beautiful frame for his rosy red face.
\nThe scarf on his neck could have stretched for a mile,
\nAnd the socks peeking over his boots were Argyle.<\/p>\n
\nAnd suddenly on one I spotted a small label:
\n\u201cS.C.\u201d in duplicate on the cuff.
\nSo I asked, \u201cHey, Nick, did YOU crochet all this stuff?\u201d<\/p>\n
\nI learned how to crochet when I was just a kid.\u201d
\nHe was chubby and plump, a well dressed old man,
\nAnd I laughed to myself, for I\u2019d thought up a plan.<\/p>\n
\nAnd the next thing he knew, he was tied to a chair.
\nHe spoke not a word, but looked down in his lap
\nWhere I had laid my crochet hook and yarn for a cap.<\/p>\n
\nFor the first time I thought I might really get through.
\nHe put heels in the stockings and toes in some socks,
\nWhile I sat back drinking a scotch on the rocks.<\/p>\n
\nGood Grief! He was finished by two!
\nHe sprang for his sleigh when I let him go free,
\nAnd over his shoulder he looked back at me.
\nI heard him explain as he sailed past the moon,
\n\u201cNext year, start your crocheting sometime around JUNE!\u201d<\/p>\n![\"](\"http:\/\/hookedonstring.files.wordpress.com\/2007\/11\/knittingsantas.jpg\")
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