I'll tell of a greek tragic heroine;

She was known as Pandora by name;

A quiet lass who didn't go out much,

A bit like the Oh lympic flame.

 

Zeus had commissioned Pandora,

The first lady made from the earth.

He was really quite pleased with the outcome;

Far less messy, he thought, than a birth.

 

Some say that Zeus craved a companion;

Some say it was merely a whim.

Cynics say he created a woman

To do all his washing for him.

 

Now Zeus was quite lazy by nature;

Some called him a bit of a slob.

He'd built up six months dirty washing

And he couldn't face up to the job

 

Zeus was tortured by ingrowing toenails;

He'd been meaning to get them all cut

He was suffering badly from bunions

And the usual greek athlete's foot.

 

The laundry task fell to Pandora,

On washday she opened the box;

She released a great fountain of evil

As out flew a torrent of socks.

 

A smell so pungent and noxious

Descended all over the world,

As the greeks came to realise the horror

Of the curse that Pandora unfurled.

 

Pandora was stunned by her actions.

She vowed "It won't happen again!"

She said "From now on you wear sandals,

You and all the other greek men."

 

A hole in the space time continuum

Was formed by the actions that day

To upset the sock equilibrium

So that socks can just vanish away.

 

And it's said that socks are like salmon

As back to their source they migrate,

Led on by some deep homing instinct;

Perhaps they are seeking a mate.

 

So next time you look in your sock drawer

And you find that there isn't a pair,

Take all your odd socks down to Pandora's box,

You’re sure to find t'matching ones there.