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Young Marcus was a naughty boy

     Who screamed and made rude faces.

He’d do these things with little care

     In most unlikely places.


His ugly faces frightened all.

     They’d back away with fear.

His mother said: 'Now don’t do that.

    The wind may change my dear.'


The dog hid underneath the chair;

     The guinea pig soon fled

And even his poor rabbit ran

     To hide beneath his bed.


Quite suddenly the wind changed course

    And blew from north to south,

And Marcus, screaming loud and clear,

    Could not control his mouth.


With tongue stuck out, and hands on ears,

     He couldn’t move at all

And though he tried and tried in vain

    He couldn’t shout or bawl.


The doctors tried to help this boy,

    But all said: 'There’s no cure.'

So, should you see a boy like this,

    It’s Marcus Smith for sure.



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