I
Nigh ev’ry sock I’ve ever worn
Was gift to me on Christmas morn–
A fact the mind should quick embrace
Since stockings hang from fireplace
On Christmas morn.
II
A naked sole in summer’s heat
Gives easing breeze to fevered feet.
But, in the winter’s chilling brrrrr,
A woolen sock is de rigueur.
III
One’s ancient socks, in time, expose
Some wear upon the heels and toes.
‘Tis well for those who smartly darn
A stitch of thread or knit of yarn.
IV
But, if the hose be truly torn,
Awake the day the Child was born,
And peer beneath the glittered tree
To see if waits some socks for thee
On Christmas morn.
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