A little hunter shoots a duck for his wife to roast, then fumbles his second shot at the drake. It's a comic ballad with a jaunty triple rhyme running through every line, though the hunting is worth knowing about before reading to sensitive listeners.
From Mother Goose / Nursery Rhymes (traditional). See the whole collection.
There was a little man, and he had a little gun,
And his bullets were made of lead, lead, lead;
He went to the brook, and saw a little duck,
And shot it right through the head, head, head.
He carried it home to his old wife Joan,
And bade her a fire to make, make, make.
To roast the little duck he had shot in the brook,
And he'd go and fetch the drake, drake, drake.
The drake was a-swimming with his curly tail;
The little man made it his mark, mark, mark.
He let off his gun, but he fired too soon,
And the drake flew away with a quack, quack, quack.
Public domain. Text from The Real Mother Goose (Blanche Fisher Wright, 1916), via Project Gutenberg. View the source edition