WALTER MALLARD: THE WOUNDED DUCK

Written by: Specklefeather

Remark the duck who hesitates towards you
In the light of the pond which beckons towards him like a grin
You see the border of his wing is torn and stained with shot
And you see a drop slip from his wing, blood-red, and somewhat hot

He flew about from dusk to dawn
Until he landed upon that fateful lawn
He didn’t notice the gun, the horrid thing
He was lucky that it only got his wing
For the rifle was aimed straight at his head
If he hadn’t limped off, he would have been dead
And who’d believe the utter bad luck
Of Walter Mallard the Wounded Duck?
Walter Mallard the Wounded Duck
Walter Mallard the Wounded Duck
And who’d believe the utter bad luck
Of Walter Mallard the Wounded Duck?