I swear that there’s a sock thief,
Who lives in our machine,
Place a pair of socks in it,
One will ne’er be seen.

Every time we do a wash,
One sock disappears,
What ever does he do with them?
Keep them as souvenirs?

I’ve a whole drawer full of onesies,
From socks gone down the drain.
I’ll be lucky to find a match for them,
Or see their like again.

Why does he only take the one,
Leaving me with one odd sock?
One day I guess that he’ll forget,
Giving me a pleasant shock.

Today, my left foot is adorned,
With stripes of red and blue,
My right with little orange stars,
Well, what ever CAN you do?

I’ll be mismatched till the day I die,
And this is my belief,
I’ll owe my sadly mismatched feet,
To the sock wash thief!