Them Red Brook boys got an odd tradition
When the sun starts gettin’ to a summer-like position,
They build a little fire down along the docks,
They doff their shoes and they burn their winter socks.
Yes, they burn their socks at the marina docks;
You might think that’s peculiar, but I think it’s not,
See, they’re the same socks they put on last fall,
And they never took ’em off to wash ’em, not at all . . .
So they burn their socks at the marina docks
In a little ol’ fire burning nice and hot.
Some think incineration is the only solution,
‘Cause washin’ ’em contributes to Red Brook’s pollution.
Through the spring and the summer and into the fall,
They go around not wearin’ any socks at all,
Just stinky bare feet stuck in old deck shoes,
Whether out on the water or sippin’ on a brew.
So if you sail into the Harbor on the 20th of May,
And it smells like Limburger sautéed with old hay,
You’ll know you’re downwind of the Kingman docks
Where they’re celebrating summer by burning their socks.