‘Milking ducks,’ I tell him, and he gives me pepper for it.
I only wish he was a hare, and my book a wild cat, and all his books dogs.
Wouldn’t I blow my horn!
Don’t I wish he was dead!
‘Milking ducks,’ I tell him, and he gives me pepper for it.
I only wish he was a hare, and my book a wild cat, and all his books dogs.
Wouldn’t I blow my horn!
Don’t I wish he was dead!