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.