THERE was an owl lived in an oak, Wisky, wasky, weedle; And every word he ever spoke Was, Fiddle, faddle, reedle. A gunner chanced to come that way, Wisky, wasky, weedle; Says he, I'll shoot you, silly bird. Fiddle, faddle, feedle. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...LOUISA MAY ALCOTT by LOUISE CHANDLER MOULTON ZION, OR THE CITY OF GOD by JOHN NEWTON THE GRAVE OF LOVE by THOMAS LOVE PEACOCK THE LION'S SKELETON by CHARLES TENNYSON TURNER LADY OF CASTLENORE; A.D. 1700 by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH TO A SISTER OF CHARITY by EDWIN GEORGE ALEXANDER |