Bead the Raven

Once upon a midnight bleary, whilst I beaded to music eerie Poring over many a pattern and book from the beading store Whilst I beaded, nearly napping, accidentally sometimes stabbing The bead tray slips and I am grabbing, grabbing with my finger sore Argh I mutter, my finger sore, And now all my beads are on the floor Ack, my beads – I will lose them and there will be no more There will always be more beads – but sometimes, just not the beads you want. And sometimes, you accidentally buy the beads you already have – which is …