Socks

I have a hundred socks it seems
As does most every man
But finding two that are the same
Well.. I so rarely can

I buy my socks with extra care
Always the same store
I buy a dozen at a time
Sometimes even more

When new, they are so perfect
They look and feel the same
But then some little evil elf
Begins to play a game

One sock gets a twist or two
Another gets a tug
The next time that I wear them
One feels a little snug

I search all through that pile
But much to my dismay
I cannot find a perfect pair
I search and search all day

Please help me find the answer
Am I the only one?
Or does this elf go elsewhere
And have more wicked fun

Does he take a sock of yours
And trade for one of mine?
Does he work while we're asleep
Or maybe while we dine?

Perhaps us men should start a club
And gather all our socks
Then go down by the river
And pound them all with rocks

We'll dig a hole and bury them
Then go out to the store
We know the cycle never ends
Just buy a dozen more