The Ballard of the Mallard

Note: I've been instructed to write this post by the beautiful Cissy M.

I haven't actually got anything to write about, but in honour of Cissy I think I'll wing it* and see what happens.

OK, so as she's a Creative Writing student, I think I'll do some creative writing of my own.

The Ballad of the Mallard

In a world straight and narrow
And rapid and shallow,
Where the pat of the flat feet
Causes a shadow,

You will find a duck
Who's down on his luck.
As instead of a 'quack'
His noise is a 'cluck!'

But if you ask him why
He'd do nothing but sigh,
As he loathes to explain
Why he also can't fly.

The truth is quite strange:
That he had a 'bird change'
Which meant that his feathers
He had to rearrange.

Our duck is grief stricken,
And it makes him quite sickened
At the most bizarre thought
He was once a chicken.

So he left his own flock,
Flapping to the bird doc,
Who reassigned him in places -
And made him a cock!

He waddled with pride
And a Mick Jagger stride,
To his local pond where
He chose to reside.

Now in this world narrow and straight,
We all can relate,
To this little 'chuckin'
Who I think is quite great.


Dedicated to my bird, Cissy M.

* I didn't realise this pun until after I'd re-read the post, but I thought I'd keep it in there.