Poetry by Shel Silverstein


One two, buckle my shoe.
"Buckle your own shoe!"
Who said that?
"I did. What are you doing with those silly buckles on your shoes anyway?"
Three four, shut the door.
"You shut it--You opened it."
Er... five six, pick up sticks.
"Why should I pick them up--do you think I'm your slave? Buckel my shoe, shut the door, pick up sticks, next thing you'll be telling me to lay them straight."
But it's only a poem... Nine ten, a big fat... oh never mind.