There was a little man, and he had a little gun,
And his bullets were made of lead, lead, lead;
He went to the brook, and saw a little duck,
And shot it right through the head, head, head.
He carried it home to his old wife Joan
And bade her a fire to make, make, make,
To roast the little duck he had shot in the brook,
And he'd go and fetch the drake, drake, drake.
The drake was a swimming with his curly tail;
The little man made his mark, mark, mark,
He let off his gun, but he fired to soon
And the drake flew away with quack, quack, quack!
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