Let me tell you a tale of stench
of crusty foot coverings
and smells that gut-wrench
A tome purely written
solely for soles
small toes peeking out
from worn cotton holes
It all begins in a young lady’s lair;
a lass very sassy
and incredibly fair
At first glance we see
her abode looks swell
But take a second glance,
and not all seems so well
Perfumes, clothing, and books
all shelved neatly away,
or hanging on hooks
New Wave CDs
snuggled up in their cases
toiletries and make-up
all in their places
But upon a deep whiff
rancid foot scent will tell
that under the bed
festers levels of hell
It smells of gym lockers
and wet vinyl seats
Fat lady crotch sweat
and food nobody eats
there are high notes of blue cheese
and puffy plastic pants
there are undertones of dishrags
and stuff that attracts ants
So one day the lass
could stomache no more
she looked under the bed
to find the fish-smelly core
Ho! Ho! Hey! Hey!
What should there be?
Huge hoards of smelly stockings
of all variety
socks with yellow smileys
and brown polka-dots
socks that were knee-high
and some that were not
socks with aliens
and funny colored flowers
socks that had lady bugs
and clocks with cool powers
They were all of high quality
no one could deny
but the problem with these socks
is their stench was sky-high!
Dirty socks under the bed
are tomfoolery for kids--
not for nice ladies
that wear fancy lids!
So off to the laundry
those crusty socks went
into the washer
to freshen their scent
Then out of the dryer those fluffy socks came
and the moldy smell of death
no longer remained
So socks on the floor
hiding under the bed
will no longer be
how this life will be led
When socks become dirty
into the hamper they go
No longer seeking refuge
to the laundry they'll flow!
A lesson was learned by that lass so fair--
the girl with the beautiful, silky blond hair
shall no longer toss footwear
under the bed anymore
and soiled socks on her floor,
nevermore.
