with fervent apologies to John Masefield
I must down to the yarn again, to that skein catching my eye,
And all I ask is my DPNs and a path to steer them by,
And the label’s snap and the swift’s creak and the ball-winder’s shaking
And the blue mist watched before my face, to stop the skein from breaking.
I must down to the yarn again, for the call of wool twice-plied
Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied;
And all I ask is a train delay to let my fingers go flying,
And the knit flick and the purl curl, and the frog frog, sighing.
I must down to the yarn again, to the commuter’s knitting life,
With a storyteller lulling me home, tucked in elbows to avoid the strife;
And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover
And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long sock’s over.