The Ode of a Knitter's Husband

Upon reading all of the knitting poetry by knitting poets, a very talented knitter's husband decided to check in and he is hysterical! Reader beware: colorful language ahead.

The Ode of a Knitter's Husband

She sits to knit, Holy Shit!
She's dropped a stitch, son of a bitch!

Who messed with my stuff, she yells out quite gruff.
I dare not tell twas I, or my butt she will fry!

The yarn starts a flying, she starts a crying!
I start running because I've learned she's quite cunning!

She now is so mad that she throws her knitting.
I'm now locked in the john, pretending I'm shitting!

The cacophony of screams are now a low roar,
I unblock, unlock and open the door!

I decide to be a man and prepare for the assault.
The dropped stitch in question must be my fault.

I enter the room to atone for my sinning,
With an angelic face, she sits there while spinning.

The maiden in twirling the fiber is twisting,
The urge to choke me, I know she's resisting!