Grattis Shel!

Never explain what you do. It speaks for itself. 

You only muddle it by talking about it.

Sheldon Allan "Shel" Silverstein 

25 september 1930 – 10 maj 1999

Cloony The Clown  

I'll tell you the story of Cloony the Clown

Who worked in a circus that came through town.

His shoes were too big and his hat was too small,

But he just wasn't, just wasn't funny at all.

He had a trombone to play loud silly tunes,

He had a green dog and a thousand balloons.

He was floppy and sloppy and skinny and tall,

But he just wasn't, just wasn't funny at all.

And every time he did a trick,

Everyone felt a little sick.

And every time he told a joke,

Folks sighed as if their hearts were broke.

And every time he lost a shoe,

Everyone looked awfully blue.

And every time he stood on his head,

Everyone screamed, "Go back to bed!"

And every time he made a leap,

Everybody fell asleep.

And every time he ate his tie,

Everyone began to cry.

And Cloony could not make any money

Simply because he was not funny.

One day he said, "I'll tell this town

How it feels to be an unfunny clown."

And he told them all why he looked so sad,

And he told them all why he felt so bad.

He told of Pain and Rain and Cold,

He told of Darkness in his soul,

And after he finished his tale of woe,

Did everyone cry? Oh no, no, no,

They laughed until they shook the trees

With "Hah-Hah-Hahs" and "Hee-Hee-Hees."

They laughed with howls and yowls and shrieks,

They laughed all day, they laughed all week,

They laughed until they had a fit,

They laughed until their jackets split.

The laughter spread for miles around

To every city, every town,

Over mountains, 'cross the sea,

From Saint Tropez to Mun San Nee.

And soon the whole world rang with laughter,

Lasting till forever after,

While Cloony stood in the circus tent,

With his head drooped low and his shoulders bent.

And he said,"THAT IS NOT WHAT I MEANT -

I'M FUNNY JUST BY ACCIDENT."

And while the world laughed outside.

Cloony the Clown sat down and cried.

“Said the little boy, Sometimes I drop my spoon. Said the little old man, I do that too. The little boy whispered, I wet my pants. I do too, laughed the old man. Said the little boy, I often cry. The old man nodded. So do I. But worst of all, said the boy, it seems Grown-ups don't pay attention to me. And he felt the warmth of a wrinkled old hand. I know what you mean, said the little old man.”

“I asked the zebra, Are you black with white strips? Or white with black strips? And the zebra asked me, Are you good with bad habits? Or are you bad with good habits? Are you noisy with quiet times? Or are you quiet with noisy times? Are you happy with sad days? Or are you sad with happy days? Are you neat with some sloppy ways? Or are you sloppy with some neat ways? And on and on and on and on And on and on he went. I'll never ask a zebra About stripes Again.”

“All The Woulda-Coulda-Shouldas

Layin' In The Sun,

Talkin' 'Bout The Things

They Woulda-Coulda-Shoulda Done...

But All Those Woulda-Coulda-Shouldas

All Ran Away And Hid

From One Little Did.”