One of my favorite poems while growing up was:
Little Abigail and the Beautiful Pony
By Shel Silverstein
There was a girl named Abigail
Who was taking a drive
Through the country
With her parents
When she spied a beautiful sad-eyed
Grey and white pony.
And next to it was a sign
That said,
FOR SALE—CHEAP.
“Oh,” said Abigail,
“May I have that pony?
May I please?”
And her parents said,
“No you may not.”
And Abigail said,
“But I MUST have that pony.”
And her parents said,
“Well, you can have a nice butter pecan
Ice cream cone when we get home.”
And Abigail said,
“I don’t want a butter pecan
Ice cream cone,
I WANT THAT PONY—
I MUST HAVE THAT PONY.”
And her parents said,
“Be quiet and stop nagging—
You’re not getting that pony.”
And Abigail began to cry and said,
“If I don’t get that pony I’ll die.”
And her parents said, “You won’t die.
No child ever died yet from not getting a pony.”
And Abigail felt so bad
That when she got home she went to bed,
And she couldn’t eat,
And she couldn’t sleep,
And her heart was broken,
And she DID die—
All because of a pony
That her parents wouldn’t buy.
(This is a good story
To read to your folks
When they won’t buy
You something you want.)
I had it memorized and would recite it at the most appropriate times. For some reason it never worked. This photo of Punkin and Bingo
reminded me of those many, many times I made my sweet sister be my "horse". Although I had a bit for her and actually got on her back and made her take me around the house. Yes, I know it sounds a little nuts, but I really, really, really wanted a horse. I would even grab the Sunday classifieds from our paper and circle all the horses in the equine section and make a list of the ads for my dad to call, all the while begging and pleading my case. Oh and not to mention that I would leave random notes around the house for them to find while I was back at my mom's house. I don't recall specifically what those notes said, but I'm sure they were along the lines of: "I will love you forever if you buy me a horse." and "The nicest parents get their daughter a horse." or "Gramma Helen would have gotten me one.". I loved playing mind games with those poor saps. It didn't work of course.
Maybe I should have spent less time on the poem about a pony and more time on this one...
Messy Room
By Shel Silverstein
Whosever room this is should be ashamed!
His underwear is hanging on the lamp.
His raincoat is there in the overstuffed chair,
And the chair is becoming quite mucky and damp.
His workbook is wedged in the window,
His sweater’s been thrown on the floor.
His scarf and one ski are beneath the TV,
And his pants have been carelessly hung on the door.
His books are all jammed in the closet,
His vest has been left in the hall.
A lizard named Ed is asleep in his bed,
And his smelly old sock has been stuck to the wall.
Whosever room this is should be ashamed!
Donald or Robert or Willie or—
Huh? You say it’s mine? Oh dear,
I knew it looked familiar!
:) Either way, I hope my kids love the talented, albeit a little dramatic poet. I'm sure Punkin will have no trouble memorizing the poems and slipping them into our everyday conversation just as I did many years ago.
