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    SICK by Shel Silverstein

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    ali
    The poem is about a little girl named Peggy Ann McKay who tries to convince her parents that she is too sick to go to school by listing an absurd number of ailments. However, when told that it is Saturday and not a school day, she suddenly feels better and wants to go out and play.

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    © All Rights Reserved
    Download as PDF, TXT or read online from Scribd

    SICK by Shel Silverstein

    Uploaded by

    ali
    2K views1 page
    The poem is about a little girl named Peggy Ann McKay who tries to convince her parents that she is too sick to go to school by listing an absurd number of ailments. However, when told that it is Saturday and not a school day, she suddenly feels better and wants to go out and play.

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    © © All Rights Reserved

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    PDF, TXT or read online from Scribd

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    The poem is about a little girl named Peggy Ann McKay who tries to convince her parents that she is too sick to go to school by listing an absurd number of ailments. However, when told that it is Saturday and not a school day, she suddenly feels better and wants to go out and play.

    Copyright:

    © All Rights Reserved
    Download as PDF, TXT or read online from Scribd
    Download as pdf or txt
    2K views1 page

    SICK by Shel Silverstein

    Uploaded by

    ali
    The poem is about a little girl named Peggy Ann McKay who tries to convince her parents that she is too sick to go to school by listing an absurd number of ailments. However, when told that it is Saturday and not a school day, she suddenly feels better and wants to go out and play.

    Copyright:

    © All Rights Reserved
    Download as PDF, TXT or read online from Scribd
    Download as pdf or txt
    of 1

    “SICK”

    A poem by Shel Silverstein

    I cannot go to school today,”


    Said little Peggy Ann McKay.
    “I have the measles and the mumps,
    A gash, a rash, and purple bumps.
    My mouth is wet, my throat is dry,
    I’m going blind in my right eye.
    My tonsils are as big as rocks,
    I’ve counted sixteen chicken pox,
    And there’s one more - - that’s seventeen,
    And don’t you think my face looks green?
    My leg is cut, my eyes are blue –
    It might be instamatic flu.
    I cough and sneeze and gasp and choke,
    I’m sure that my left leg is broke –
    My hip hurts when I move my chin,
    My belly button’s caving in,
    My back is wrenched, my ankle’s sprained,
    My ‘pendix pains each time it rains.
    My brain is shrunk, I cannot hear,
    There is a hole inside my ear.
    I have han gnail, and my heart is – what?
    What’s that? W hat’s that you say?
    You say today is … Saturday?
    G’bye, I’m going out to play.

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