Rows and rows of ducks march by,
Why aint these ducks no fly, no fly?
There gots to be a reason why,
Maybe the black cloud of death is in the sky.
The ducks they march upon the ground,
And pooping is the only sound,
Some ducks are skinny, some are round.
In my dogs mouth two ducks I found.
The ducks they gots no place to go,
Yet here they march row after row.
This duck parade is quite a show,
Wish you were here, my little bro!