The One Sock Eater's here again
To gobble socks up where he can.

As silently as sleeping rocks,
He lurks among a pile of socks.

He pulls the sock he wants aside
And carries it away to hide.

He loves to choose one of a kind,
Then leave its matchless mate behind.

In washer, dryer, dresser drawer,
He's always searching for one more.

If sock is clean or sock is icky,
He doesn't care; he isn't picky.

He'll take one from a tennis shoe
And never leave a single clue,

Or find one underneath the bed
Beside some day-old crusty bread.

He doesn't even care a bit
If he has swiped your favorite.

No telling where he'll stash his prize;
He seeks a place from prying eyes.