Plimpton, George saved a duckling
And published it in his review
Jack the writer said - 'bless you! '
And Papa thanked him too.
The society toast at the Ritz,
Writers, poets and all in-between
All gathered tied in time
To participate in this grind.
Duckling as crisp as the Peking wind
Duckling as sweet as the Paris sky
Grew into a beautiful thing
And flapped its wings to fly.
We cherish that duckling today
And let it speak for itself.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem