With apologies to Shel Silverstein

May 16, 2006

With apologies to Shel Silverstein, this is what came to my mind as I was mowing the lawn. I couldn’t remember the words to his poem so I made up my own.


Sara Cynthia Sylvia Stout
tended to mope and stomp about.

She wasn’t happy, she wasn’t glad.
On most days she was rather sad.

Her parents despaired of what to do,
they took her out to see the zoo,

The library and the museum.
Nothing seemed to work and then

They brought him home, she leaped for joy.
He became her favorite living toy.

She named him Spot; they played all day,
tumblin’ and chasing the blues away.

After a while the pup did find
something pressing was on its mind.

He yipped and yapped and ran about
trying in vain to just get out.

Finally he could take no more
and piddled on the living room floor.

He tinkled some more and on the wall,
He dribbled and drizzled and down the hall.

Finally when he could piddle no more,
He defecated on the kitchen floor.

Sara Cynthia Sylvia Stout
would not take the puppy out.

Update: I corrected the spelling in the title…


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