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.
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