Dylis, that’s my name, and I’m a duck.
I’m fed up standing here knee deep in muck,
I used to think it lovely to swim out across the lake,
Leaving little swirls and eddies in my wake.
Then the water turned to ice and that I couldn’t take.
So, I’m standing here all wet and out of luck.

Here, what about you doves up in your cote?
I bet you’re feeling happy with your lot?
Now couldn’t I persuade you to make a change with me?
I’d like to spend a day up there, eating cake crumbs for my tea.
Will one of you little doves kindly heed my plea?
You rotten stuck-up lot, no, I thought not.

The doves replied to Dylis with a coo.
“We really couldn’t change our place with you.
We are symbols of purity, of peacefulness and such,
You’d feel so out of place my dear, you wouldn’t like it much.
Couldn’t you move over and shelter in the rabbits’ hutch?
Just squatting there you really spoil our view.”

What about you, Mr Owl up in your tree,
How would you like to swap around with me?
I’m sure that I could fly up to your branches in the sky,
And shelter underneath those leaves, all cosy, warm and dry,
If I sit here any longer I’m sure that I will cry.
Please Mr Owl, kindly hear my plea.

“Tu whit tu wu, dear Dylis, it won’t do.
I really couldn’t sit down there like you.
It wouldn’t be the wisest thing, to get my feathers damp,
And padding around in mud, I’m sure that I’d get cramp.
Just wait, I’m sure the sky will soon be blue.”
“Tu whit tu wu, dear Dylis, tu whit tu wu.”

You’re right old Mr Owl, I think I see the sun,
The rain will stop. I’ll fly and swim and run.
I’ll shake up all my feathers, and I’ll swim around the lake,
I’ll preen myself, and with some luck I’ll find myself a drake
I knew if I was patient the clouds were sure to break.
I’m Dylis Duck, and I’m going to have some fun.

© Kathy McKay Sinclair