Author Anonymous There was an owl lived in an oak, Whisky, wasky, weedle; And every word he ever spoke Was, Fiddle, faddle, feedle. A gunner chanced to come that way, Whisky, wasky, weedle; Says he, I'll shoot you, silly bird. Fiddle, faddle, feedle. Rate this poem Select ratingGive it 1/5Give it 2/5Give it 3/5Give it 4/5Give it 5/5 Average: 5 (2 votes) Rate Log in or register to post comments