Someone Wrote A Poem

Twas the night before Christmas
and all through the mill,
Things were running as usual
And smelling like a still.

While our families were nestled
All snug in their beds,
We were hard at it
Just trying to stay ahead.

While the kids dreamed
Of Christmas so bright,
We were making paper
all through the night.

When all of a sudden
There rose such a clatter,
Big Jack called the foreman
To see what was the matter.

Christmas morning to us
Would just have to wait,
Because the press pick up roll
Was in a terrible state.

Yes, we missed another Christmas
With our honey,
But, boy are we glad
We made all that money.