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A sequal to a great song Like to read it…here…

A sequal to a great song

Like to read it…here it goes.

THE FATHER OF THE BOY NAMED SUE

[Silverstein’s speaking voice:] îOkayÖ now years ago, I wrote a song named ìA Boy Named Sueî, and that was okay and everything, except then I started to think about it, and I thought, ìIt is unfair. I am looking at the whole thing from the poor kidís point of view. And as I get more older and more fatherly, I begin to look at things from an old manís point of view. SoÖ I decided to give the old man equal time. Okay. Here we go.î

Yeah, I lefí home when the kid was three.

It sure felt good to be fancy free

Tho I knew it wasnít quite the fatherly thing to do.

But that kid kept screaminí and throwiní up

And pissiní in his pants til I had enough

So just for revenge I went and named him Sue.

It was Gatlinberg in mid July

I was gettin’ drunk but gettin’ by

Gettin’ old and going from bad to worse

When thru the door with an awful scream

Comes the ugliest queen Iíve ever seen

He says my name is Sue. How do you do?

Then he hits me with his purse.

Now this ainít the way he tells the tale

But he scratched my face with his fingernails

And then he bit my thumb

and kicked me with his high-heeled shoe.

So I hit him in the nose, and he started to cry

And he threw some perfume in my eye

And it sure ainít easy fightin with a boy named Sue.

So I hit him in the head with a caned-back chair

And he screamed, ìHey Dad, you mussed my hair!î

And he hit me in the navel and knocked out a piece of my lint.

He was spittin’ blood. I was spittin teeth.

And we crashed through the wall and out into the street

A-kickin and gougin’ in the mud and the blood and the crËme de menth.

Then out of his garter he pulls a gun.

Iím about to get shot by my very own son.

Heís screamin’ about Sigmond Freud and lookin’ grim.

So I thought fast and I told him some stuff

How I named him Sue just to make him tough.

And I guess he bought it, cuz now Iím livin’ with him.

Yeah, he cooks and sews and cleans up the place.

He cuts my hair and shaves my face.

And irons my shirts better than a daughter could do.

And on the nights that I canít score,

Well, I canít tell you anymore.

Sure is a joy to have a boy named Sue.

Yeah, a son is fun,

But itís a joy to have a boy named Sue.

Shel Silverstein

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