A LITTLE MAN
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.