DXVII.
There was an owl lived in an oak, Wisky, wasky, weedle; And every word he ever spoke Was fiddle, faddle, feedle.
A gunner chanced to come that way, Wisky, wasky, weedle; Says he, "I'll shoot you, silly bird." Fiddle, faddle, feedle.
There was an owl lived in an oak, Wisky, wasky, weedle; And every word he ever spoke Was fiddle, faddle, feedle.
A gunner chanced to come that way, Wisky, wasky, weedle; Says he, "I'll shoot you, silly bird." Fiddle, faddle, feedle.