| Sarah Cynthia Silvia Stout Would Not Take The Garbage Out |
| Sarah Cynthia Silvia Stout Would not take the garbage out! She'll scour the pots and scrape the pans, Candy the yams and spice the hams. And though her daddy would scream and shout, She simply wold not take the garbage out. And so it piled up to the ceilings: Coffee grounds, potato peelings, Brown banans, 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 balck burned buttered toast, Gistly 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 frome green baloney, Rubbery blubbery macaroni, Peanut butter, caked and dry, Curdled milk an dcrusts of pie, Moldy melons, dried-up mustard, Eggshells mixed with lemon custard, Cold french fries and rancid meat, Yellow lumps of Cream of Wheat. At last teh garbage reached so high That it finally touched the sky. And the neighbors moved away, And none of her friends would come to play. And finally Sarah Cythia Stout said, " Ok, I'll take the garbage out! " But then, of course, it was too late... The garbage had reached across the state, From New York to the Golden Gate. And in the garbage she did hate, Poor Sarah met an awful fate, That I cannot right now relate, Because the hour is much too late. But children, remember Sarah Stout And always take the garbage out! ~Shel Silverstien |