Genevieve S.

Mr. Martin The Mad Man

Mr. Martin made some money

He was born in late 1920

He was not sad, or glad, nor was he bad

Mr. Martin was just very mad

We don’t know why… he walks around town and sighs

He does not do stunts, just grunts and leaves

Although Mr. Martin is very clean

Wakes up at eight, never late

Gets dressed makes his bed, puts a cap on his head

Then walks out the door so old and poor

Goes to the baker, pays for his muffin

then leaves himself all huffin’ and puffin’

At eight forty-five at the newspaper cart

Others say he has such a poor heart

At nine fifteen at work to lurk leaves at four with dinner to cook

Walks back to his house, a poor, poor man Mr. Martin

OUCH!!!!!!- His finger gets caught in the door

Curses and shouts, pulls his finger out

Hangs up his cap on an empty hook

peaks through a small window to take a look

Outside he see’s it’s thunder and rain

He walks with his cane to the kitchen he goes

Takes out the chicken he smells with his nose

Sits at his blue table and reads a fable

The chicken is ready-takes the chicken out

Burns his finger Oh that makes him shout

Eats his chicken goes to bed

Dreams, mad dreams up in his head