If you were to text “Where the Sidewalk Ends” by Shel Silverstein it would look like this.
Original, copyrighted and owned by its rightful owner:
There is a place where the sidewalk ends
And before the street begins,
And there the grass grows soft and white,
And there the sun burns crimson bright,
And there the moon-bird rests from his flight
To cool in the peppermint wind.
Let us leave this place where the smoke blows black
And the dark street winds and bends.
Past the pits where the asphalt flowers grow
We shall walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And watch where the chalk-white arrows go
To the place where the sidewalk ends.
Yes we'll walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And we'll go where the chalk-white arrows go,
For the children, they mark, and the children, they know
The place where the sidewalk ends.
If you were to text “Where the Sidewalk Ends” by Shel Silverstein it would look like this.
Original, copyrighted and owned by its rightful owner:
There is a place where the sidewalk ends
And before the street begins,
And there the grass grows soft and white,
And there the sun burns crimson bright,
And there the moon-bird rests from his flight
To cool in the peppermint wind.
Let us leave this place where the smoke blows black
And the dark street winds and bends.
Past the pits where the asphalt flowers grow
We shall walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And watch where the chalk-white arrows go
To the place where the sidewalk ends.
Yes we'll walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And we'll go where the chalk-white arrows go,
For the children, they mark, and the children, they know
The place where the sidewalk ends.
Copyright:
Attribution Non-Commercial (BY-NC)
Available Formats
Download as DOC, PDF, TXT or read online from Scribd
If you were to text “Where the Sidewalk Ends” by Shel Silverstein it would look like this.
Original, copyrighted and owned by its rightful owner:
There is a place where the sidewalk ends
And before the street begins,
And there the grass grows soft and white,
And there the sun burns crimson bright,
And there the moon-bird rests from his flight
To cool in the peppermint wind.
Let us leave this place where the smoke blows black
And the dark street winds and bends.
Past the pits where the asphalt flowers grow
We shall walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And watch where the chalk-white arrows go
To the place where the sidewalk ends.
Yes we'll walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And we'll go where the chalk-white arrows go,
For the children, they mark, and the children, they know
The place where the sidewalk ends.
Copyright:
Attribution Non-Commercial (BY-NC)
Available Formats
Download as DOC, PDF, TXT or read online from Scribd
If you were to text “Where the Sidewalk Ends” by Shel Silverstein it would look like this.
whr d cydwalk Ends
By: Shl Slvrstein
theres a plce whr d cydwalk ends
n B4 d st bgins, n der d grass grOs soft n wyt, n der d sun burns crimson brite, n der d m%n -bird rests frm hs flyT 2 QL n d peppermint wind.
lets leaV dis plce whr d smoke blows blk
n d drk st winds n bends. Past d pits whr d asphalt flowAs gro We shll wlk W a wlk dats measurd n slO, n woch whr d chalk-wyt arrows go 2 d plce whr d cydwalk ends.
Yes we'll wlk W a wlk dats measurd n slO,
n we'll go whr d chalk-wyt arrows go, 4 d kids, dey mark, n d kids knw d plce whr d cydwalk ends.