Marie Laveau
Down in Lou´siana where the black trees grow
Lives a voodoo lady named Marie Laveaux.
She got a black cat tooth and a mojo bone,
And anyone wouldn´t leave her alone.
She go GREEEEEEEEEEEE...
Another man done gone.
She live in a swamp in a hollow log
With a one-eyed snake and a three-legged dog.
She got a bent bony body and stringy hair,
And if she ever seen you messin´ round there,
She go GREEEEEEEEEEEE...
Another man done gone.
And then one night when the moon was black,
Into the swamp came Handsome Jack.
A no-good man like you all know,
And he was lookin´ around for Marie Laveaux .
He said, 'Marie Laveau, you lovely witch,
Why don´t you gimme a little charm that´ll make me rich.
Gimme million dollars, and I´ll tell you what I´ll do...
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poem by Sheldon Allan Silverstein
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Bury Me In My Shades
In a pad with no heat, up on Sullivan Street,
The last of the hipsters lay dyin'.
Wearin' his shades, so like no one could tell
Like whether or not he was cryin'.
All the junkies and loners
An' coffee shop owners
Were all gathered 'round his bed.
He took one last puff
Of some imported stuff
And this are the last words he said.
He said, 'Send my sandals home to Mom,
Hang my T-shirt away.
Burn my guitar
In Washington Squar',
'Cause I never learned how to play.
Give my pad
To some needy lad
And tell him the rent is all paid.
Keep my cash,
An' my stash,
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poem by Sheldon Allan Silverstein
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The Perfect Wave
Dave McGunn was a surfin’ bum, half–crazed by the blazin’ sun.
From Waikiki to the Bering Sea, he rode ’em one by one.
Now he hung offshore ’bout a mile or more, out where the dolphins played,
And his wild eyes gleamed as he schemed and dreamed
To ride the perfect wave.
Oh, ride the perfect wave, Dave, ride the perfect wave.
If you wait it out and you don’t sell out, you may ride
The perfect wave.
He crouched in the spray and he waited all day till the sun gave way to the moon,
And his legs grew cold and he grew old and wrinkled like a prune.
And the years rolled by and the surf broke high and the 40–foot breakers sprayed.
But he sneered at ’em all, sayin’, 'Too damn small; I’m waitin’
For the perfect wave.'
He was sleepin’ on his board when he woke to a roar as thunder shook the sea.
’Twas the dreaded California quake of 1973.
And he stared at the reef in disbelief, then paddled with tremblin’ hands
As a monstrous crashin’ tidal wave came roarin’ ’cross the land.
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poem by Sheldon Allan Silverstein
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Handy Man
Well on a Monday I'll be slingin' hash Tuesday I'll be collectin' trash
And on a Wednesday I might be tendin' bar
Thursday I'll be the guy who parks your car
On a Friday I might be teachin' school a Saturday finds me hustlin' pool
I got a whole lotta talents in demand that's why they call me Handy Man
Pow-pow-pow-hum all the neighborhood girls and boys
Pow-pow-pow-pow they come to me to mend their toys
Ta-ra-ra-ra their daddys call me to mow their lawn
And their mama's all horny when their daddys are gone
I can drive a tractor or wheel a truck I can deal a hand at poker with exceptional luck
And I can chop down a redwood usin' just one hand
That's why they call me Handy Man
Pow-pow-pow-pow-hum yeah you know if you need me for emergencies
I can come round you know work around the house
Or the backyards or somethin' not too taxin' no
Yeah on six in the morning I'm out pickin' fruits 8:45 I'm back pressin' suits
Twelve o'clock you'll see me shinin' shoes the coctail hour I'll be a servin' booze
I can wash your windows or walk your pet
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poem by Sheldon Allan Silverstein
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Vegematic
Fell asleep last night with the TV on,
Oh, what a dream I had.
Dreamed I went and answered ev'ry single
One of those late night mail order ads.
Then four to six weeks later,
Much to my surprise,
The mailman came to my front door
And I couldn't believe my eyes.
He brought the Vegematic
And the Pocket Fisherman, too,
Illuminated, illustrated History of Life
And Box Car Willie with a ginsu knife,
A bamboo steamer and a garden weasel, too,
And a tie dyed day-glow souvenir shirt
From Six Flags Over Burbank.
Well, the doorbell rang all mornin',
All through the afternoon,
And I shook with fright as it rang all night
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poem by Sheldon Allan Silverstein
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Three-Legged Man
Well now friends you'll never guess it so I really must confess it
I just met the sweetest woman of my long dismal life.
But a friend of mine said, 'Buddy, just in case your mind is muddy,
Don't you know that girl you're fooling with is Peg-Leg Johnson's wife.
And that man is big and rough and mean and grim,
And he'll brain you with his artificial limb.
But next morning bright and early I stole old Peg-Leg's girlie,
And I also took his wooden leg just to play it safe.
But there weren't no time for laughter 'cause he started hopping after,
And I keep on running faster but he won't give up the chase.
And I'm running through the mountain with his bride,
And I got his wooden leg here by my side.
I'm a three-legged man with a two-legged woman
Being chased cross country by a one-legged fool.
Though he's huffing and he's puffing and he shows no sign of stopping,
I tell you, boys, this life is hard and cruel.
'Cross the deserts and the valleys and the dark Chicago alleys
'Cross the mighty Mississippi to the hills of Caroline.
Through the mountains of Montana and the swamps of Louisiana
Everytime that I look back he's JUST one foot behind.
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poem by Sheldon Allan Silverstein
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Sarah Cynthia Slyvia Stout Would Not Take The Garbage Out
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,
Grisly bits of beefy roasts...
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poem by Sheldon Allan Silverstein
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Modern Talk
There was a time when people taked said with their mouth
How they talk and it doesn't mean a thing it's called the modern talk
Now picture the scene the day is sunny
A man meets a friend and asks him for some money
He says I need five to keep me alive
And the friend gives him this kinda jive
He says zaa za voo za za voo I can't make it
Va za va za voo za va see ya later so long see you later
Vome zoo za vome a viddle o till then
And he's right back out on the street again
And then a girl gets on the phone and talks to her lover
She says we got troubles that we can't keep covered
I just got the news I'm knittin' baby shoes
Now call up the preacher and pay your dues
He says zaa za voo za za voo see you later so long huhuh
I can't stand baby vome zoo za vome till then
And she's right back out on the street again
And then a guy gets grabbed by an army recruiter
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poem by Sheldon Allan Silverstein
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Scum Of The Earth
There was a group called called Scum of the Earth
And they say they got their birth
In a basement bar on Greek Street down in Soho
The bass man he smoked grass and the drummer he kicked ass
And the lead guitar ate speed while everybody boogied
The drummer's name was Mavis he was a twice convicted rapist
They say he learned to play in a garage band in Balham
He'd cut out your heart for a dime and he kept lousy time
But the rest of the band was too damned scared to tell him
And The Scum of the Earth they just keep boogyin' on
Higher and higher until the fire was burned out and gone
And The Scum of the Earth they just keep boogyin' on
Now the bass man's names was Spiker he dressed like a black jacket biker
But underneath his leathers he wore black lace silk panties
They say he sang his sweet love number directly to the drummer
While he kept his eye on the guitar player's fanny
On lead guitar was Static he was a hey health-food fanatic
He lived on berries and nuts and had scurvy and rickets
He did his Yoga excercisin' and he kept on tryin' and tryin'
'til finally he could bend all the way over and lick it
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poem by Sheldon Allan Silverstein
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The Nap Taker
No - I did not take a nap -
The nap - took - me
off the bed and out the window
far beyond the sea,
to a land where sleepy heads
read only comic books
and lock their naps in iron safes
so that they can't get took.
And soon as I came to that land,
I also came to grief.
The people pointed at me, shouting,
'Where's the nap, you thief?'
They took me to the courthouse.
The judge put on his cap.
He said, 'My child, you are on trial
for taking someone's nap.
'Yes, all you selfish children,
you think just of yourselves
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poem by Sheldon Allan Silverstein
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