i waddled waddled waddle-footed
and duck-footed i waddle, well—
my toes were too attached, there were no time to doddle
and nor to dawdle, — well it was too much of a sentimental issue, this
it’s just my right and left both needed a kiss, and
in the end it was a no-brainer, well, keep them together,
no need to explain her and if anyone asks, i can tell them with my chest
no, always i could support me, more stable than the rest!
and can’t you just focus on my plume, my puff? they say i look
alluring, a diamond in the rough
and well if you could just focus, then i could let you know
i didn’t really have a choice, and they’re not just for show—
duck-footed i go, a left and then right
to see the moon gleaming through my puddles at night
and waddle-dawdle footed, no i don’t really care
what regular-toed birds say, outrun any day
one thing to tell you, and one thing to see
the fun of a ducked-foot multiplies by three
This is such a fun poem