Me Pale Blue Socks.


Walkin' to town in me pale blue socks,

Pockets empty I'm on the rocks;

But I don't despair,

I'm treading on air,

Walkin' to town in me pale blue socks.




They used to be white, I'll have you know,

White an' pure as the driven snow;

Not pink nor marine,

Not yeller nor green;

Then something happened in that washing machine.




I tell you now, I tell it true,

They went in white, but they came out blue.

Talk of surprises,

Talk about shocks,

And now I'm walkin' in pale blue socks.




Went to tell the wife, should of known

She's up and talkin' on that telephone,

So I'm walkin' to town

In them awful socks

Searchin' for a shop sells telephone locks.




Reckon when them socks was turning blue

She was busy chatting on that telephone too;

Mister phoneman give me a chance,

Let me have a phone lock in advance,

Then me pockets won't be empty,

I won't be on the rocks

Walkin' to town in pale blue socks.






Copyright © Bernard Gilhooly - All Rights Reserved