Shel Silverstein Quote
Sarah Cynthia Sylvia StoutWould 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 doorWith 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 highThat 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 relateBecause the hour is much too late.
Sarah Cynthia Sylvia StoutWould 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 doorWith 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 highThat 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 relateBecause the hour is much too late.
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About Shel Silverstein
As a children's author, some of his most acclaimed works include The Giving Tree, Where the Sidewalk Ends, and A Light in the Attic. His works have been translated into more than 47 languages and have sold more than 20 million copies. As a songwriter, Silverstein wrote the 1969 Johnny Cash track "A Boy Named Sue", which peaked at number 2 on the U.S. Billboard Hot 100. His songs have been recorded and popularized by a wide range of other acts including Tompall Glaser, The Irish Rovers, Dr. Hook & the Medicine Show and Marianne Faithfull. He was the recipient of two Grammy Awards as well as nominations at the Golden Globe Awards and Academy Awards.
His book A Light in the Attic is dedicated to his daughter who died at age 11. Silverstein died at home in Key West, Florida, of a heart attack on May 10, 1999, at age 68.