I Married a Man Who Folds His Socks

The sketches that I have for this piece go back about 4 years before I actually finished this piece. At that time I asked my wife for a few of her favorite poems so that I could set them to music. Out of all of the poems that she gave me, I knew I had to start with this one. Over the course of two graduate degrees I lost this piece amongst other work and projects. The Covid-19 pandemic helped rediscover these early sketches.

I’m not quite sure what I love most about this poem; perhaps it is the tender teasing, the way it highlights those little thoughts one has about small things, or maybe I just like it because it shows who does the laundry around our house. Against my better judgement, I made a few slight tweaks to the poem to fit the music better. Below I have contained G.E. Tipton’s original poem, untainted by my music. When performing this piece it is highly encouraged that the alto engages and interacts with the pianist or the audience (and preferably both). There is plenty of humor within the poem and a great vocalist will be able to share that with the audience.

If you are interested in performing or purchasing the sheet music for this piece please contact me. This piece was premiered by Sarah Dunnevant, alto, and Lydia Warren, piano at the Nashville Composers Collective concert on January 30th, 2022.

I married a man who folds his socks.

I married a man who folds his socks.
I say that, but he corrects me.
He doesn’t fold them.
He lays them out flat, matches the pairs together,
And he makes neat orderly stacks in his drawer.
His folded boxers sit beside them,
And my drawer slumps above his.

I know that’s not technically folding,
But the organizational spirit is the same.

I match my socks together too.
-mostly; I have many odd socks I pair up,
combining or clashing their colors and patterns-
I tuck the tops into each other and ball them up,
Tossing the balls into my drawer
Along with my underwear.
My panties and bras and socks mix sociably.

I could say this symbolizes our personalities,
That it describes without words our differences:
He is tidy, I am not.
But that would be false.

What it really shows,
Is just how much I hate laundry.

- G.E. Tipton