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Poem	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 it his mark, mark, mark.He let off his gun, but he fired too soon,  And the drake flew away with a quack, quack, quack.
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