No Name.

There once was a man.
He made eggs with a pan.
He had a yellow fan.

This man was old.
He had a wife to have and to hold.
He never kept a secret, he always told.

This man had no name.
Candyland was his favorite game.
As a child, he was called lame.

This poem has no point.
I am sorry, if it is a dissapoint.

The End =]

^Yeah. Just was bored.
Felt like writing something odd.