MR. NOBODY

New Zealand Tablet, 23 November 1911, Page 2389

MR. NOBODY

I know a funny little man As quiet as a mouse, Who does the mischief that is done In everybody's house! There's no one ever sees his face, And yet we all agree That every plate we break was cracked By Mr. Nobody. 'Tishe who always tears our books, Who leaves the door ajar; He pulls the buttons from our shirts, And scatters pins afar. That squeaking door will always squeak, For, prithee, don't you see, We leave the oiling to be done " By Mr. Nobody. He puts damp wood upon the fire, That kettles cannot boil; His are the feet that bring in mud, And all the carpets soil. The papers are always mislaid, Who had them last but he? There's no one tosses them about But Mr. Nobody. The finger-marks upon the door By none of us are made; We never leave the blinds unclosed To let the curtains fade. The ink we never spill, the boots That lying round you see Are not our boots; they all belong To Mr. Nobody.