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IT'S ALL THE SAME TO THE CLAM
You may leave the clam on the ocean's floor,
It's all the same to the clam.
For a hundred thousand
years or more,
It's all the same to the clam.
You may bury him deep in mud and muck
Or carry him 'round to bring
you luck,
Or use him for a hockey puck,
It's all the same to the clam.
You may call him Jim or Frank or
Nell,
It's all the same to the clam.
Or make an ashtray from his shell,
It's all the same to the clam.
You may
take him riding on the train
Or leave him sitting in the rain.
You'll never hear the clam complain,
It's all the
same to the clam.
Yes, the world may stop or the world may spin,
It's all the same to the clam.
And the sky may
come a-fallin' in,
It's all the same to the clam.
And man may sing his endless songs
Of wronging rights and righting
wrongs.
The clam just sets-and gets along,
It's all the same to the clam.
By: Shel Silverstein
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