Poetry Saturday: Shel Silverstein

I missed Poetry Friday on accounta being in transit for most of it and then going out for dinner once I got back to Big City. The apartment is a disaster area of unpacked suitcases and clothing I was too tired to deal with appropriately, so this seemed like the perfect poem for a day which will pretty much be dedicated to trying to clean up after myself.

Messy Room

Whosever room this is should be ashamed!
His underwear is hanging on the lamp.
His raincoat is there in the overstuffed chair,
And the chair is becoming quite mucky and damp.
His workbook is wedged in the window,
His sweater's been thrown on the floor.
His scarf and one ski are beneath the TV,
And his pants have been carelessly hung on the door.
His books are all jammed in the closet,
His vest has been left in the hall.
A lizard named Ed is asleep in his bed,
And his smelly old sock has been stuck to the wall.
Whosever room this is should be ashamed!
Donald or Robert or Willie or--
Huh? You say it's mine? Oh, dear,
I knew it looked familiar!