| And he went with a quack
|
| And a waddle and a quack
|
| In a flurry of eiderdown
|
| That poor little ugly duckling
|
| Went wandering far and near
|
| And at every place they said to his face
|
| Now get out of here, get out, get out, get out of here
|
| And he went with a quack
|
| And a waddle and a quack
|
| And a very unhappy tear
|
| All through the wintertime he hid himself away
|
| Ashamed to show his face, afraid of what others might say
|
| All through the winter in his lonely clump of wheat
|
| Till a flock of swans spied him there and very soon agreed
|
| You? |
| re a very fine swan indeed
|
| Swan? |
| Me, a swan? |
| Go on, you? |
| re a swan
|
| Take a look at yourself in the lake and you? |
| ll see
|
| And he looked and he saw and he said
|
| It’s me, I am a swan, whee
|
| I? |
| m not such an ugly duckling
|
| No feathers all stubby and brown
|
| For in fact these birds in so many words said
|
| The best in town, the best, the best, the best in town
|
| Not a quack, not a quack
|
| Not a waddle or a quack
|
| But a glide and a whistle
|
| And a snowy white back
|
| And a head so noble and high
|
| Say, «Who?s an ugly duckling?» |
| Not I |