Once upon a time there was a duck.
The duck, he liked to say quack.
But poor little ducky was sick,
just waiting to have a flurgin heartattck!
A mister frog came hopping along.
He saw the sick little duck.
Looked him once over,
And a feather did he pluck
You see, the feather was gross.
Infected and sticky and sick.
The frog was a doctor and the duck was sick,
so the doctor's pluck did the trick!
Now our poor little ducky,
is no longer sicky and sad.
He splashes in the pond,
for now, the germs are gone.
The pond is just so happy and bright.
So now the ducky is exuberent!
And since nothing really rhymes with the above line,
I vote that we call this "the end".
