There once was a fella named Jake

Who arrived with his shiny new rake

He scooped up old Bill

Off that wet grassy hill

As he mumbled..."What a sad, sad kill."

We continue the story of Bill

Who lay at the foot of the hill

And was chewed by a goat

But got stuck in its throat

His chance of recovery is nil.

The goat dreamily chewed on his cud,

As he sloshed ankle-deep in the mud,

He tripped on a rock,

And out flew the sock !

Seems his snack was really a dud.

I do declare

Baa'ed the goat with care

Thanks to that rock

I've lost my sock

What a crock!

While Bill is roaming around

There's another lost sock to be found

It's color is black

I do wish it back

I'm hiring a scent sniffing hound.

You might wish to hire a fox

For I've heard they can track down socks,

Plus they'll clear out your mice

That is their one vice,

If they find opportunity knocks !

I'd veto the idea of fox

He might not show interest in socks

Instead he might choose

To munch on your shoes

Don't let Reynard out of his box!

Now the owner of Bill seeks it's mate

To find it before it's too late

Cold feet are no fun

When out on a run

And your toes meet a horrible fate.

It might time to raise sheep ...

As it seems that yarn is not cheap.

I could sit in plein air

and knit up a pair

to don when I walk or I sleep !

Could you knit me one sock that is black

For that is the colour I lack?

Says the owner of Bill

It sure is a pill

I just want the dirty sock back

You might need to talk to Jake

He claimed he found Bill with his rake,

'though flung on a hill

it might be there still

Unless his story was fake.

Jake?

Fake?

Never for his sake

The sock did make

A trip from his rake.

I do know a single named Jill,

Who gives other socks quite a thrill,

Perhaps your lone mate,

Might ask for a date,

She'd jump at the chance if he will.

That coy little sock known as Jill

Who edges are lined with a frill

May simper and giggle

And possibly wiggle

But never be run of the mill.

I heard tell of an athlete called Jock

Who was a basic white cotton sock,

He asked Jill for a date

And after all that she ate,

Good old Jock had to go into hock.

You have not checked that final place

The vet will soon attest;

We all know socks are eaten by dogs

who will not rest;

Until outwitted owners, its cleverness

espressed. Give up, oh mortal human;

you'll never find that sock!

And more to come, as you try the canine

jaws unlock!

So a dog has eaten poor Bill

No doubt he must feel very ill

For the wool will expand

In a tight swollen band

The explosion will probably kill.

RP'ers are so very clever

This story could go on forever

Of Bill, Jill, Jake and Jock

In this tale of a sock

How inventive we are, all together.

Do you all remember when we did a riff on The Night Before Christmas?

I sure do ! That was quite a long time ago and a lot of fun.

Bill will be wandering long, I fear

Until next Christmas is here

He'll show up the Night Before

Asking to be let in the door

Then settle at last by the hearth for some warm holiday cheer.

There's a moral for all of us here,

A sock simply will disappear !

You put two in the dryer

But one is much slyer,

And it's gone forever, I fear.

It stuck to the back of a sweater,

And escaped for a life that is better.

Search as you might,

It's nowhere in sight.

Forget it and don't be a fretter !