As I stand here ironing
I imagine what you'll say
when you return from Boston Gardens
at the end of the day:
Our field trip had treats:
sweet bread with a spread;
the cars made strange honks
that scared Tonkie who fled.
The teacher took wing,
his expression was red,
"Tonkie, as always, alongside me instead."
Then we waddled onto the cobblestone
where the proud bronze ducklings in their glory shone.
"We aren't daffy ducks," our teacher said,
"but wondrous, just have a look, we are
like those in Mr. McCloskey's book."