The Puddle King

A duck appeared on Market Street The morning after rain. He found a puddle by the shops And claimed it for his reign. He placed a leaf upon his head And named a frog his guard. He charged the snails a crumb apiece To cross the cobbled yard. On Thursday, every sparrow came. They splashed until half four. The baker brought a crust of bread. The duck demanded more. But Friday brought the summer sun. The kingdom dried away. The duck packed up his soggy leaf And waddled off that day. We found him in the fountain Beside the library. He'd put up signs: "NO FISHING HERE. THIS WATER BELONGS TO ME."