they were sweaty, drying in the sun
smelled atrocious, badder than my bum
some unknown matter, and a piece of gum,
on my socks

made of cotton, wool upon the soles,
little toesies, sticking out the holes,
straight and brownish, sort of tootsie-roll
from my socks

my mom was ready, stoking up the fire,
washed in water, hung over on a wire,
said I liked it, I was such a liar,
'bout my socks

like my socks?
just a subject for a song
like my socks?
there is nothing really wrong
with my socks, even though they smell so strong,
I like my socks

and as we washed off all the mud
and all the other musty crud
of all my clothing, yes it seems,
they stand proud, they stand high
keep my tootsies dry
I really need them, it seems

twenty pairs now,
where'd they go,
odd sock heaven
the matchup? I don't know
I sit and wonder sometimes
where they've gone

and sometimes late at night
when the calfs are way too tight
and my toes turn a ghostly white
I befall, I befall

like my socks?
just a subject for a song
like my socks?
there is nothing really wrong
with my socks, even though they smell so strong,
I like my socks

like my socks?
nothing means so much to me
like my socks
in my sneakers perfectly
like my socks?
will you give some fives to me?
for my socks?

oh for my socks