We call him Mister Nobody;
And when the wind is still,
He stands so quietly, and thin,
Alone upon his hill.
But when the wind begins to blow,
He suddenly grows fat!
He waves his arms and seems about
To tip his battered hat.
If he could speak, perhaps he'd say
(I'm certain that he would),
"Who claims 'it is an ill wind
That blows Nobody good'?
"But I think I'm Somebody.
Just ask the crows!"
And who will deny it
While the wind blows?
~ Marion Doyle
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