The Curse of the Odd Socks

    
    
They may be blue, they may be green    
but there's ne'er a matching pair to be seen    
He can't fathom where he left them    
and he's dismantled the washing machine    
     
Such mournful moans and fitful groans      
as loud as a stricken fox    
If truth be told he's getting old    
'tis the curse of the missing socks    
     
He hunts them high, he hunts them low    
says they must slither off like snakes    
He's scoured every nook and cranny    
until even his glasses ache     
   
And now he feels exhausted    
too weak to wind a clock    
for there's not much makes an old man worse      
than the curse of the missing socks    
     
He dreads shrill peals of laughter    
on his journey to the shops    
because he knows there's not much dafter    
than when unmatched ankles cross     
 
And one thing's always certain      
the traffic's sure to stop    
no there's nothing makes an old man worse    
than the curse of the missing socks    
     
No cure is known when a man falls prone    
there is no medical reverse    
the biggest fear on his way home--    
two odd shoes would be worse      
 
No, there's nothing makes  
an old man worse    
than the curse      
of the missing socks