My Hero

Marcel Proust’s my hero,
Marcel Proust’s my man.
I’ll tell you why
Marcel’s my guy
And I’m his biggest fan.

Marcel was a writer
Who wrote his books in bed,
And no one fussed
Or said You must
Get up, Marcel. Instead

His friends all came to see him
And brought him special cakes;
He’d take a bit
Then start to write
Forget his pains and aches

And murmur I remember . . .
The taste made him recall
A favourite game,
A flower’s name,
The colour of a ball,

Until it all came pouring out.
Marcel was a success,
But still he lay
In bed all day
And didn’t have to dress.

So that’s why he’s my hero —
There’s homework to be done.
I didn’t write
A word last night
And now the morning’s come.

I’d like to lie here all day long
And try those special cakes;
I’m sure Marcel
Could count and spell
And not make bad mistakes.

Oh to be a genius,
Never to look a fool,
But best to stay
In bed all day
And not be missed at school.