Where Is That Sock
It was there when I put the basket down
Now here I am, scratching my crown.
I know that they were accounted for
Prior to my closing the door.
Yet, here I am beginning to vent
Because I know it's here in this basement.
If I can find it, it will make my day
If I don't, there'll be hell to pay.
I don't have a clue as to where it might be
That little white glove...for my footsee.
It happens each time...I do not know why
I only know it's when the cycle is set to dry.
It must be sated, this one sock hunger
That the dryer has each time we launder.
Maybe the answer lies in buying the same
For that way I could match them without any blame.
Or I could bind them before washing which would do
Save me the trouble of looking for one or two.
But even as I stand here the intrigue goes on
Where are Sherlock and Dr. Watson?
They were not real, so now I must take stock
But, I'll bet they could find my missing sock.
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