by Wombatilim

Ducks

Everyone thinks they’re such sweet little things
Soft downy feathers and nice little wings
But there’s a poison I’d like to administer,
You think they’re cuddly but I think they’re sinister.
What are they doing at night in the park?
Think of them waddling about in the dark.
Sneering and whispering and stealing your cars,
Reading pornography, smoking cigars.
Nasty and small undeserving of life.
They smirk at your hairstyle and sleep with your wife.
Dressed in black jackets and horrible shoes,
Getting divorces and turning to booze.
Forcing old ladies to throw them some bread.
Who could deny they’d be better off dead?
Look closer and you may recoil in surprise,
At web-footed fascists with mad little eyes.

Oh, and don’t forget about the Duck Rape problem.  Ducks are evil, man.  Evil evil creatures.