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“Yes,” said the little ones, and then
She went on to explain:
“A well-bred duck turns in its toes
As I do—try again.”
“Yes,” said the ducklings, waddling on:
“That’s better,” said their mother;
“But well-bred ducks walk in a row.
Straight—one behind another.”
“Yes,” said the little ducks again,
All waddling in a row:
“Now to the pond,” said old Dame Duck—
Splash, splash, and in they go.
“Let me swim first,” said old Dame Duck,
“To this side, now to that;
There, snap at those great brown-winged flies,
They make young ducklings fat.
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“Now, when you reach the poultry-yard,
The hen-wife, Molly Head,
Will feed you, with the other fowls,
On bran and mashed-up bread;
“The hens will peck and fight, but mind,
I hope that all of you,
Will gobble up the food as fast
As well-bred ducks should do.
“You had better get into the dish,
Unless it is too small;
In that case, I should use my foot,
And overturn it all.”
The ducklings did as they were bid,
And found the plan so good,
That, from that day, the other fowls
Got hardly any food.
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