Ducks on a winter morning
Freezing their feet without warning.
Dane the duck, foot in the puddle,
He can’t move but he’d really like to cuddle.
Quacking to others to help him unstick,
What could they do? They’d have to be quick.
The farmer is coming, his mood sour,
He crushed his finger while he was making flour.
If Dane doesn’t move, he will surely die,
As the object of the wrath of the farmer can’t fly.
Time is ticking, the ducks are quacking
The farmer is coming, the ice isn’t cracking.
Dane prepares for what soon will come,
Gets surprised as he gets some
Kinetic energy from the farmers boot,
Breaks free and gets happy. “Hoot hoot!”
So happy he forgot that he was a duck,
As per his fate and a load of bad luck.