Uncle Shel

I heard the news
It was a sad, sad day.
Uncle Shel Silverstein
Just passed away.

He was a wild old wit,
An artist and poet.
A Light in the Attic,
Uncle Shel wrote it.

And where the sidewalk ends
There is a Giving Tree.
And under its branches
Old Shel would sing:

For dreamers and wishers
For hope-ers and liars,
For pray-ers, pretenders
And magic bean buyers.

And people would gather
To hear his strange tales
Of crocodiles eating dentists
And girls eating whales.

Of Rock-'n-Roll Bands
Beating on pails,
And one crying and spying
Young sister for sale.

There were Flying Festoons
A deserted dark house;
And Sarah Cynthia Sylvia Stout
Never took her garbage out.

There was Clarence Lee from Tennessee
And Jimmy Jet turned into a TV.
Dancing pants and sleeping sardines;
A farmer, a fish, a flag and a queen.

Uncle Shel made us laugh
And sometimes we'd scream
He made us believe
In the craziest dreams.

But now he's gone.
Some say he died,
But we know that
Is the silliest lie.

Shel Silverstein is not dead
He's just gone for a ride
Why, I saw him laughing
High in the sky.

He was riding on top
Of a flying shoe
With Ickle Me, Pickle Me
And Tickle Me Too.

He sailed over the sun
And beyond the blue,
But look what he left –
His books are for you.