I don't own any of the characters (who belong to Cassandra Clare). All I have control over is the order of words and punctuation.
"Sing a song of sixpence,
A pocket full of rye.
Four and twenty wood ducks,
Baked in a pie.
When the pie was opened,
The birds began to brown;
Wasn't that a dainty dish,
To set before the crown?"
Will finished the mundane nursery rhyme with a dramatic flourish, and began to chuckle, echoed by the giggles of his wife and daughter, while his son sat sourly at his feet.
It was story time in the Herondale household. Tessa sat in a worn rocking chair, with an excited toddler Lucie in her lap. Her husband perched at the edge of the couch. He reached forward and affectionately ruffled the sullen boy's dark hair.
"What's the matter, James?" Will asked, cheerfully. "Didn't you like the song?"
The sour boy replied, "You sang it wrong, Father. It should be blackbirds, not wood ducks. And they began to sing, not brown."
The man laughed, and lifted his son onto his lap. "True, James, but if anything deserves being baked into a pie, it's a wood duck. That creature is a foul demon, with no soul behind its beady eyes."
At the last part, his wife burst into laughter. She said, "Oh, I wouldn't agree with that. I actually like ducks; they're perfectly fine creatures. I've never understood why you hate them so much."
Will shot her a baleful look. He retorted, "I don't hate ducks. I actually like them, provided they're baked into a pie and browning."
At this, the entire family laughed.