He was the Nobile Duck Of York; He had ten thousand pens; he marched them up to the top of the hill without a spill, and he was there again bound with lens for his den He was hopeful with luck, he wasn’t quite a stork, but had the might of papers to sort, like the breeze so glad which was also his sound sound friend, the need of also his wheel barrow cart dropped another knock with the will, with no doubt, to again use the quill, With no fear against the door, with ten knock