The legend lives on from my Ma and Pa on down
Of the big tub we all used for bathing
The tub, it was said, sat right next to the head
With a ledge for my fun bath time plaything
From the spigot water poured, thirty-six gallons or more
Then my rubber duck, Darryl, set cruising
That cute duck would float like a seaworthy boat
And the joy that he brought was so soothing

The duck was my pride, and how quickly he would glide
He could outrun the toys of my siblings
As a friend to behold, 'twas a glittery gold
But my bragging would lead to some sniv'ling
My sisters would squirm like a couple of meal worms
As the snot from their noses was dribbling
While snooping one night, meddlin' eyes felt fright
As I read the harsh words they'd been scribbling

The words that were penned by those tattle-tale clowns
Left a strange cold feeling intruding
The malice exposed by their rancorous prose
Just might lead to my duckie's undoing
At dawn we ate. Indigestion was my fate
And I ran to the bathroom with spasms
At Darryl I gazed. I thought to be safe
I should hide him before something happened

At supper I chewed with no strong urge to spew, thinking
"Darryl, my sisters won't find ya."
At seven p.m., as my bath time came due, I thought
"Darryl, I'm coming to fetch ya."
That massive old tub, it had water filling up
And the cute duck did float unimperiled
But later that night, when delight turned into fright
Came the wreck of the rubber duck, Darryl

Does any one know where the buoyancy goes
When some breaks let a duck fill with water
My parents would say 'twould have happened one day
And I shouldn't put blame on their daughters
He might have been cut or he might have been sliced
He might have been pierced by those plotters
But all that remained was the aching and the pain
'Cause I felt like my best friend got slaughtered

Great hurting turned to cheerier things
As I grew to mature into manhood
My sisters now spend time with me as friends
We joke about stuff from our childhood
It's smart not to show caged, long-buried woe
The grimness the duck's fate engendered
Though when I'm home alone and my merriment falls low
It's the days with my duck I remember

On a rustic old knoll near Beloit he's laid
In a very fine grave, octahedral
This earthen shrine's circled by twenty-nine pines
For each hole in my rubber duck, Darryl
The legend lives on from my Ma and Pa on down
Of the big tub we all used for bathing
My weariness is scrubbed as I lie in that tub
With my twenty-nine rubber duck playthings