The tale of the whistling sock

Asleep in the bottom drawer A place I now call home I hear a voice call my name "Sockie, Sockie" where are you I am here I seem to yell But my voice was muffled By rolls of clothing hell I listen to the frustrated grunts and growls Doors slam The smell of brewed coffee I guess it's early in the morning I try to stand Alas,held by the cuffs of clothes A wretched ordeal That I could not foresee Till I had an idea So mad it's genius I used my little lips And I began to whistle Till at last it got to you And then you brought me out I'm here to rescue you Sockie Was the last word you said