Dirty Socks
 
 


by Bruce Lansky
 
   

When I went on a camping trip
my father yelled, “PU!
Your socks smell worse than rotten eggs
and worse than doggy poo.”

“You’d better take them off,” he said,
“and wash them in the lake.”
It wasn’t long before I knew
he’d made a big mistake.

The water changed from clear to mud.
Then fumes began to rise.
And soon a cloud of air pollution
covered up the skies.

When bullfrogs started croaking
and ducks began to quack,
some campers started chanting,
“We want our clean lake back!”

I’ve got a couple of dirty socks.
I’m in an awful bind.
I guess I’ll have to bury them.
I hope the worms don’t mind.

 

Text © Bruce Lansky reprinted from Rolling in the Aisles, published by Meadowbrook Press. Illustration © Stephen Carpenter. Any copying or use of this poem or illustration without consent is unlawful.

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