The ducks don’t need to be driven to the water.
That’s one job you don’t need to do, I swear.
They’ve got an animal instinct, dearest daughter,
and sure to God, can find their own way there.
They’ve got a nose for water, have those duckies,
jes’ like that dog’s a nose for that there stove,
and like your brother’s got a nose for cookies.
Take my word, they don’t need to be drove.
The pulley by the blow-hole needs rejigging.
We need to boil the eggs your granny sucks.
The shaft below the tree-line’s needing digging.
Don’t waste your precious time on driving ducks.
While I’m on the subject, there’s a splinter
by the river bank, your sisters say.
I oughta have got shot of it last winter.
Jes’ mind yourself if you are down that way.