"Eh? I'll tell you a story you've never heard
Nor'll ever hear again, by Merlin''s beard!
Of queer tidings and queerer beasts
Of the Dinkypoos from lands far east
For in grim caverns, dark and deep
‘Midst mountains wreathed in mists of sleep
They dance by night and dream by day
In those eastern lands far away.
Strange little things – how do they look, you ask?
Well now, to describe them would be quite a task!
Their faces are white; their bottoms are green;
Their hands are yellow with a golden sheen –
What’s that? Oh, their tummies are the palest blue
– More questions?! Mercy me, what’s a fellow to do? –
Let’s see: their cheeks, I think, are quite a pretty pink;
Their eyes are little round dots of India ink!
They’ve pointy ears and great, hairy feet
That can tap in time to the liveliest beat –
Good question, that – what do they eat?
For we all know that in the east, they have no meat!
So they live on porridge n’ cream all week,
And on Mondays they play hide-and-seek;
For Sundays are to check their pocketbooks,
For sitting down and tallying their loot –
For they’re thieves, those rascals bold;
But though they steal, it’s not for gold –
Nor coins, nor jewels gleaming bright,
Do they pilfer in the dark of night.
Not gold? What then, you say?
Strange that you should ask, for it’s plain as day –
Socks, of course! Lifted from the laundry as you sleep;
The older and smellier, the better to keep!
Blue and yellow and green and red
From inside drawers and under the bed –
One sock here and a stocking there
– but never, ever a matching pair!
And these they hoard, ‘neath mounds of cord
And take out to count whene’er they’re bored
But that’s not all – there’s more, you see
For just one night, fine as fine can be
They up and left, and journey’d west
To the sound of drums, like some marching fest
And under moonrise cold and pale
They cross’d the sea in a leaky pail
And now, just between you and me,
I know they’re here – I’ve proof, you see
For today I looked for my socks, but woe betide
– I couldn’t find the other matching side!
And if you think that this is all hogwash,
Then wake up tomorrow, and check the wash
And if you find an odd sock – hard luck
You’ll know that the Dinkypoos have struck!