Shel Silverstein
Shel Silverstein
Sheldon Allan "Shel" Silverstein was an American poet, singer-songwriter, cartoonist, screenwriter, and author of children's books. He styled himself as Uncle Shelby in some works. Translated into more than 30 languages, his books have sold over 20 million copies. He was the recipient of two Grammy Awards, as well as a Golden Globe and Academy Award nominee...
NationalityAmerican
ProfessionChildren's Author
Date of Birth25 September 1930
CityChicago, IL
CountryUnited States of America
And all the colors I am inside have not been invented yet.
All The Woulda-Coulda-ShouldasLayin' In The Sun,Talkin' 'Bout The ThingsThey Woulda-Coulda-Shoulda Done...But All Those Woulda-Coulda-ShouldasAll Ran Away And HidFrom One Little Did.
God says to me with kind of a smile,"Hey how would you like to be God awhileAnd steer the world?""Okay," says I, "I'll give it a try.Where do I set?How much do I get?What time is lunch?When can I quit?""Gimme back that wheel," says God,"I don't think you're quite ready yet.
Rockabye Baby, in the treetopDont you know a treetopis no safe place to rock?And who put you up there,and your cradle too?Baby,I think someone down herehas got it in for you!
If you are a dreamer,come in. If you are a dreamer, a wisher, a liar, a hoper, a prayer, 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!
I was hoping that perhaps I could roll with you..." "You cannot roll with me," said the Big O, "but perhaps you can roll by yourself.
We can't hold hands― Someone might see. Won't you please Hold toes with me?
I'd rather play tennis than go to the dentist. I'd rather play soccer than go to the doctor. I'd rather play Hurk than go to work. Hurk? Hurk? What's Hurk? I don't know but it MUST be better than work!
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.
God says to me with a kind of smile, "Hey how would you like to be God awhile And steer the world?" . . . . "How much do I get? What time is lunch?" . . . . "Gimme back that wheel," says God. "I don't think you're quite ready yet."
G'bye, I'm going out to play!
Oh the thumb-sucker's thumb May look wrinkled and wet And withered, and white as the snow, But the taste of a thumb Is the sweetest taste yet (As only we thumb-sucker's know).
Listen to the voice that speaks inside
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 his big hairy paws In the buttery dish, He's nibbling the noodles, And munching the rice, He's slurping the soda, He's licking the ice. 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.