With humble apologies to the Shade of Edward Lear.
He went to hunt on the marsh, he did;
A middle-aged man was he;
In spite of all his friends could say,
On a foggy morn of a Winter’s day
To the mushy marsh went he.
And everyone said who saw him go;
“O, he’ll surely stick in the slough below,
For the mud is deep and the tide is strong
And happen what may it’s extremely wrong
For a man of forty three.”
Slime and slough, slime and slough,
In the marsh where the wild ducks swim;
Their heads are green and their bills are blue
But there wasn’t a duck for him!
The water came into his boots, it did;
The water and mud came in;
But he called aloud, “My boots will do
To hold my feet and the water too,”
As he held his chattering chin.
And he found a fish and a soft-shell clam
And he said: “How extremely wise I am;
Though the marsh is broad and the sloughs are long,
I shall never think I was rash or wrong
To come where the fog blows in.”
Slime and slough, slime and slough,
In the marsh where the wild ducks swim;
Their heads are green and their bills are blue
But there wasn’t a duck for him!
He went to the shore of the bay, he did
To the shore where the tules grow;
And he shot at a hawk and a brown marsh-owl,
And a rail and a teal and a feathery fowl
Whose name he didn’t know.
He shot at a snipe and a wild goose gray,
And a spoonbill duck that didn’t stay,
And a fat mud-hen and a butter-ball;
And he shot three times at a heron tall,
And a pelican big and slow.
Slime and slough, slime and slough,
In the marsh where the wild ducks swim;
Their heads are green and their bills are blue
But there wasn’t a duck for him!
The birds all laughed out loud, they did;
To see the hunter there;
And they said: “It’s just no end of fun
When a middle-aged man with a great big gun
Shoots ragged holes in the air.”
And the wild gray goose kept laughing till
The tears in streams ran down his bill;
For there’s fun so funny, the ducks agree
That even the biggest goose can see;
But the hunter was unaware.
Slime and slough, slime and slough,
In the marsh where the wild ducks swim;
Their heads are green and their bills are blue
But there wasn’t a duck for him!
Toward night the man came back, he did,
With movements sad and slow.
And they said: “He’s been to the briny bay;
And he wasn’t drowned in the usual way;
But he hasn’t a bird to show.”
They gave him toast and some tule tea,
And drank long life that they couldn’t foresee;
And everyone said: “Some other day
We too will hunt by the foggy bay
Where the slimy sloughs o’erflow.”
Slime and slough, slime and slough,
In the marsh where the wild ducks swim;
Their heads are green and their bills are blue
But there wasn’t a duck for him!