Shel Silverstein

I made myself a snowball, as perfect as could be.  I thought I'd keep it as a pet, and let it sleep with me.  I made it some pajamas, a pillow for its head.  Then last night it ran away, but first it wet the bed.

Listen to the MUSN'TS, child,
Listen to the DON'TS
Listen to the SHOULDN'TS
The IMPOSSIBLES, the WON'TS
Listen to the NEVER HAVES
Then listen close to me –
Anything can happen, child,
ANYTHING can be.

"I cannot go to school today," Said little Peggy Ann McKay. "I have the measles and the mumps, A gash, a rash, and purple bumps. My mouth is wet, my throat is dry, I'm going blind in my right eye. . . . . "What's that? What's that you say? You say today is . . . Saturday? G'bye, I'm going out to play!"

I made an airplane out of stone. . . I always did like staying home.

Tell me I'm clever, Tell me I'm kind, Tell me I'm talented, Tell me I'm cute, Tell me I'm sensitive, Graceful and wise, Tell me I'm perfect- But tell me the truth

Did you hear 'bout Ticklish Tom? He got tickled by his mom. Wiggled and giggled and fell on the floor, . . . . And all the more that he kept gigglin', All the more folks kept ticklin'. He shrieked and screamed and rolled around, Laughed his way right out of town. Through the country down the road, He got tickled by a toad. . . . . Giggling, rolling on his back He rolled on the railroad track. Rumble, rumble, whistle, roar- Tom ain't ticklish any more.

I tried on the farmer's hat, Didn't fit. . . A little too small - just a bit Too floppy. . . . . I tried on the summer sun, Felt good. Nice and warm -- knew it would. Tried the grass beneath bare feet, Felt neat. Finally, finally felt well dressed, Nature's clothes fit me best.

My dad gave me a dollar bill 'Cause I'm his smartest son, And I swapped it for two shiny quarters 'Cause two is more than one! . . . . And the fool gave me five pennies for them, And five is more than four! And then I went and showed my dad, And he got red in the cheeks And closed his eyes and shook his head - Too proud of me to speak!

There's a polar bear In our Frigidaire- He likes it 'cause it's cold in there. With his seat in the meat And his face in the fish . . . . And he lets out a roar If you open the door. And it gives me a scare To know he's in there- That polary bear In our Fridgitydaire.

If you are a dreamer, come in, If you are a dreamer, a wisher, a liar, A hope-er, a pray-er, a magic bean buyer. . . If you're a pretender, come sit by my fire For we have some flax-golden tales to spin. Come in! Come in!