Mr Complainer Poem by Dan Brown

Nothing was ever good enough, nothing was ever right.
If white, he wanted it black, if day he wanted it night.
He’d sit all day in that dratted chair and criticize the world.
There was trouble from the minute his poisonous tongue uncurled.
He’d huff and puff, and whinge and sigh, and would go on throughout the day.
He’d moan and groan, grumble and gripe, as long as he got his say.
In his odd and annoying way, he was quite the entertainer.
Indeed, we all now call him ‘The Wonderful Mr. Complainer’.