Can't remember where I originally found this, but I had to share:
'Twas the night before Christmas, and oh, I was weary.
My stitching unfinished, my eyes getting bleary.
The stockings weren't finished, the chimney was bare
And I knew that morning soon would be here.
My children and husband were tucked in their beds,
But visions of backstitches ran through my head.
I'd stitched ornaments and presents and gifts by the ton,
And now, I was finally, almost, almost done.
As I poised my needle for one more stitch,
I heard something outside that made my hand twitch.
I jumped up from my stitching and flew to the door
Pressed my eye to the peephole, tiptoe off the floor.
My stitching forgotten, I peered into the night
When suddenly I got a terrible fright.
On my porch appeared Santa, holding his sack
He knocked softly, and I took a giant step back.
I unlocked the deadbolt, and let Santa in
He entered and gave a mischievous grin.
"Hope you don't mind if I come in the door?
Coming down the chimney can be quite a chore."
He said, "You're up late. Still working, I see.
Do you know how tired you're going to be?"
I know, Santa, I said with a sigh
But I'm still backstitching the stars in the sky
And the fields on that stocking look blobby you know,
I need to backstitch the drifts in the snow.
I've been stitching and stitching and stitching, no rest.
I just tried to finish stitching too much, I guess.
"I know what you mean," he said with a smile.
"This is my busiest time of the year, by a mile."
He stooped down by the tree and he opened his sack
And began to pull presents out of his pack.
"I've got some things here I think you might like.
An oak stitching frame and a brand new Ott-Light.
A bundle of floss and a great big mat cutter."
I smiled and felt my heart go a- flutter.
He put down gifts for us all, then waved his right hand
"Go to bed," he said, glancing at my floor stand.
He gave me a wink and stepped out the door.
I just stood there a moment, glued to the floor.
After he'd left, I turned back to my chair
Picked up the stockings and started to stare.
The backstitching was done! The stars lit the sky!
And on my son's stocking, angels sung on high!
I ran to thank Santa for this final gift,
And watched as his sleigh started to lift.
I heard him exclaim as he pulled out of sight,
"Merry Stitching to All, and to all a good night!"