Mr Nobody

I know a funny little man,

As quiet as a mouse,

Who does the mischief in that is done

In everybodys house!

There's no one ever sees his face,

And yet we all agree

That every plate we break was cracked by

"Mr Nobody"

'Tis he who always tears our books,

Who leaves the 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 kettle cannot boil;

His are the feet that bring in mud,

And all the carpets soil.

The papers always are mislaid,

Who had them last but he?

There's not one tosses them about but

 "Mr Nobody"

The finger marks upon the door,

By none of us are made;

We never leave the blind 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"

(Author unknown)