With apologies to Clement C. Moore
Twas the week before Christmas and all through the den, were scattered my ink pads, my stamps and my pens.
The cards I had hoped to send off in the mail, were still on the table and my hand felt quite frail.
I'd stamped through the evening in hopes I would find, I'd finished my cards...but I was still far behind.
When out in my driveway, there arose such a clatter that I sprang from my chair as embossing powder splattered.
The moon on the breast of the new fallen snow, made me wish that my white ink was not running low.
When what to my tired, bloodshot eyes should appear but a red SUV and my stamp friends so dear.
Susie, Dianne, Carol, Rita and Jill, all from the car in the driveway did spill.
With a handful of treats they knocked at the door, then dashed up my stairway to the second floor.
They surrounded my table with laughter and glee and stamped up those cards as fast as could be.
Embossing guns warmed, and powder was spread, as I felt pass beyond me my feeling of dread.
As they finished each card with a gentle, "Its Done", their smiles told me they were having fun.
The cards were all stacked, with their envelopes too, and it dawned on me that my chore was now through.
They left as they'd come in the blink of an eye, and I just murmured "Thank You" as the group hurried by.
And I heard them exclaim as they drove out of sight, The best kind of Christmas is where Stampers Unite!
Twas the week before Christmas and all through the den, were scattered my ink pads, my stamps and my pens.
The cards I had hoped to send off in the mail, were still on the table and my hand felt quite frail.
I'd stamped through the evening in hopes I would find, I'd finished my cards...but I was still far behind.
When out in my driveway, there arose such a clatter that I sprang from my chair as embossing powder splattered.
The moon on the breast of the new fallen snow, made me wish that my white ink was not running low.
When what to my tired, bloodshot eyes should appear but a red SUV and my stamp friends so dear.
Susie, Dianne, Carol, Rita and Jill, all from the car in the driveway did spill.
With a handful of treats they knocked at the door, then dashed up my stairway to the second floor.
They surrounded my table with laughter and glee and stamped up those cards as fast as could be.
Embossing guns warmed, and powder was spread, as I felt pass beyond me my feeling of dread.
As they finished each card with a gentle, "Its Done", their smiles told me they were having fun.
The cards were all stacked, with their envelopes too, and it dawned on me that my chore was now through.
They left as they'd come in the blink of an eye, and I just murmured "Thank You" as the group hurried by.
And I heard them exclaim as they drove out of sight, The best kind of Christmas is where Stampers Unite!
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