He went to the brook, and saw a little duck,
And shot it 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.
Fiddle-de-dee.
Fiddle-de-dee, fiddle-de-dee,
The fly shall marry the humble-bee,
They went to the church, and married was she,