Hug O' WarI will not play at tug o' war
I'd rather play at hug o' war
Where everyone hugs
Instead of tugs
Where everyone giggles
And rolls on the rug
Where everyone kisses
And everyone grins
And everyone cuddles
And everyone wins.
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
Where the Sidewalk Ends
Speaking of fantastic drawings... One of R's favorite books growing up was Where the Sidewalk Ends by Shel Silverstein. I had never heard of it (the look of horror on his face), but it has quick become one of my favorites, as well as JG's. We try to read some of the tales to him every night and they always leave us with big smiles on our faces. His imagination and illustrations are so magnificent. Here is one of our favorites:
Hug O' War
I will not play at tug o' war
I'd rather play at hug o' war
Where everyone hugs
Instead of tugs
Where everyone giggles
And rolls on the rug
Where everyone kisses
And everyone grins
And everyone cuddles
And everyone wins.
Hug O' WarI will not play at tug o' war
I'd rather play at hug o' war
Where everyone hugs
Instead of tugs
Where everyone giggles
And rolls on the rug
Where everyone kisses
And everyone grins
And everyone cuddles
And everyone wins.
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3 comments:
I ditto R's look of horror!! But (as you've already discovered) it's never too late to enjoy!
every thursday is trash night on hammyt and whenever we "discuss" who is supposed to take out the trash i start reciting this poem, but i change the last name and drop the "h" on sarah:
Sarah Cynthia Sylvia Stout
Would not take the garbage out!
She'd scour the pots and scrape the pans,
Candy the yams and spice the hams,
And though her daddy would scream and shout,
She simply would not take the garbage out.
And so it piled up to the ceilings:
Coffee grounds, potato peelings,
Brown bananas, rotten peas,
Chunks of sour cottage cheese.
It filled the can, it covered the floor,
It cracked the window and blocked the door
With bacon rinds and chicken bones,
Drippy ends of ice cream cones,
Prune pits, peach pits, orange peel,
Gloppy glumps of cold oatmeal,
Pizza crusts and withered greens,
Soggy beans and tangerines,
Crusts of black burned buttered toast,
Gristly bits of beefy roasts. . .
The garbage rolled on down the hall,
It raised the roof, it broke the wall. . .
Greasy napkins, cookie crumbs,
Globs of gooey bubble gum,
Cellophane from green baloney,
Rubbery blubbery macaroni,
Peanut butter, caked and dry,
Curdled milk and crusts of pie,
Moldy melons, dried-up mustard,
Eggshells mixed with lemon custard,
Cold french fried and rancid meat,
Yellow lumps of Cream of Wheat.
At last the garbage reached so high
That it finally touched the sky.
And all the neighbors moved away,
And none of her friends would come to play.
And finally Sarah Cynthia Stout said,
"OK, I'll take the garbage out!"
But then, of course, it was too late. . .
The garbage reached across the state,
From New York to the Golden Gate.
And there, in the garbage she did hate,
Poor Sarah met an awful fate,
That I cannot now relate
Because the hour is much too late.
But children, remember Sarah Stout
And always take the garbage out!
Shel Silverstein, 1974
i have my copy of "light in the attic" on my bookshelf at home - LOVED these books. better late than never!
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