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...DEDICATION IN THESE DAY by HAYDEN CARRUTH INTERRACIAL by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON HER EYES TWIN POOLS by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON ADMETUS; TO MY FRIEND RALPH WALDO EMERSON by EMMA LAZARUS THE JOY OF THE HILLS by EDWIN MARKHAM SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: BARNEY HAINSFEATHER by EDGAR LEE MASTERS |