I know a man whose wife’s a fox
Who has rows and rows of socks with clocks
He owns a store and it’s all he stocks
Yes, he has flocks of socks with clocks.

Many of his socks with clocks
He keeps inside a wooden box
for it’s how they come in from the docks
these millions of socks with clocks

You’ll know him the first time he talks
All he’ll discuss are socks with clocks
While eating bagels smeared with lox
On the house of argyle he’s declared a pox

When you see them, I’ll admit, it shocks
To see so many socks with clocks
Other stockings he mocks and mocks
Unless they’re worn by burly jocks

When he goes to see the Atlanta Hawks
He’s sure to wear some socks with clocks
He wears them with loafers, but never Crocs
He hasn’t worn those since he played with blocks

To go and see these socks with clocks
A man could take a horse or go by ox
I’ll draw him a map with colored chalks
And on his door, he finally knocks
and sees the man and his socks with clocks