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 shot a little duck,

Right through the middle of the head, head, head.


He carried it home to his old wife Joan

And bade her a fire for to make, make, make,

To roast the little duck he had shot in the brook,

And he’d go and fetch her the drake, drake, drake.


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