Some scoundrel snuck inside the wash
While I was washing mine
Said scumbag snatched up half my socks
Though just the matching kind
So now I have but one of each
One blue, one brown-gray hatched,
I've stacks of black and heaps of tweed
And nary one will match
What sneak would snaffle up such swag?
What criminal would walk
With time enough to sort the bag
But leave with single socks
Perhaps this looter lost a leg
And thus the one-sock spree?
(Part two: I checked beneath the bed -
The thief, it seems, was me)
