The Forty Little Ducklings - Poem by Laura E. Richards

The forty little ducklings who lived up at the farm,
They said unto each other, "Oh! the day is very warm!"
They said unto each other, "Oh! the river's very cool!
The duck who did not seek it now would surely be a fool."

The forty little ducklings, they started down the road;
And waddle, waddle, waddle, was the gait at which they goed.
The same it is not grammar, - you may change it if you choose, -
But one cannot stop for trifles when inspired by the Muse.

They waddled and they waddled and they waddled on and on.
Till one remarked, "Oh! deary me, where is the river gone?
We asked the Ancient Gander, and he said 'twas very near.
He must have been deceiving us, or else himself, I fear."

They waddled and they waddled, till no further they could go:
Then down upon a mossy bank they sat them in a row.
They took their little handkerchiefs and wept a little weep,
And then they put away their heads, and then they went to sleep.

There came along a farmer, with a basket on his arm,
And all those little duckylings he took back to the farm.
He put them in their little beds, and wished them sweet repose,
And fastened mustard plasters on their little webby toes.

Next day these little ducklings, they were very very ill.
Their mother sent for Doctor Quack, who gave them each a pill;
But soon as they recovered, the first thing that they did,
Was to peck the Ancient Gander, till he ran away and hid.