"There 's no use cooking one duck," said his wife, "so we 'll have
pork and beans for dinner and I 'll hang the little duck in the shed.
Perhaps you 'll be able to shoot a drake to-morrow, and then we 'll
cook them both together."
So they had pork and beans, to the great disappointment of Mr. Jimson,
who had expected to eat duck instead; and after dinner the little man
lay down to take a nap while his wife went out to tell the neighbors
what a great hunter he was.
The news spread rapidly through the town, and when the evening paper
came out the little man was very angry to see this verse printed in
it:
There was a little man and he had a little gun,
And the bullets were made of lead, lead, lead.
He went to the brook and shot a little duck,
And the bullet went right through its head, head, head.
He carried it home to his good wife Joan,
And bade her a fire to make, make, make,
While he went to the brook where he shot the little duck,
And tried for to shoot the drake, drake, drake.
"There 's no use putting it into the paper," exclaimed the little man,
much provoked, "and Mr. Brayer, the editor, is probably jealous
because he himself cannot shoot a gun. Perhaps people think I cannot
shoot a drake, but I 'll show them to-morrow that I can!"
So the next morning he got up early again, and took his gun, and
loaded it with bullets made of lead.
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