The View From My Wooden Window

The view from my window is stark

The view from my window is dark

For that view is of socks, cold and grey,

Standing some inches apart.


But though my vista be humbling

This slave must needs not be grumbling

For he is honoured indeed to be viewing

Those socks which he yearns to be fumbling!


Though the touch of the socks be elusive

This slave is enrapt and effusive

And praises their wonderful wearer

Even though she be rude and abusive!


Oh pray, pretty socks, have soft pity

At this slave confined in the city

And show me your wonderful stitching

As I sing you my sock-praising ditty!

😂












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