It's not news that the world of children's songs is a dangerous, morbid world; anyone who has ever been lullabized by the story of the baby placed at the top of a tree for some inexplicable reason, only to hear of that innocent infant's windblown crashing to earth, knows all too well that the world has always been filled with unfit parents and other perils.

Perhaps no song better illustrates the poor parenting theme in children's music than "Five Little Ducklings." In the song, five little ducklings go over the hill and far away. When Mama Duck says quack quack quack, only four come back. Very likely this should cause concern for a mama, but not so this one. The next day, four little ducklings amble over the same hill. Quack quack quack. And only three little ducklings come back. While you and I might see a pattern developing here, the valium besotted Mama Duck the next day permits the remaining three to leave for the hill all alone, and guess how many heed duskfall's quack quack quack. That's right: two. You'd hope that some concerned neighbor might call Child Protective Services. But no. So the pattern continues until no duckies return home and Mama Duck has the gall, the gall, to be sad. Sad! She finally waddles her own lazy ass over the hill where her little ducklings are all congregated, presumably lost, cold and hungry.

Even ostensibly innocent songs can have troubling consequences. "Where is Thumbkin" is a wonderful teacher of digit names, but used without caution in a car, it can serve as a spark for road rage. Picture this: you're sitting in slow-moving traffic with your two year old in the car seat, protected from the relentless beating of the sun by tinted rear windows (the belt) and a window screen (suspenders). No matter the season, you have the windows up because you still haven't dealt with the fact that you're listening to "Toddler Favorites" on the same stereo that used to blast Led Zeppelin IV. The guy in the car to your right is a little steamed because of the traffic. He fails to notice you singing "Here I am, here I am" just before you turn to little Timmy in the backseat and make the hand sign in response to "Where is Tallman?" All he sees is a totally decontextualized finger gesture, and all of a sudden, the road rage horse is out of the barn.

You listen to Eminem or Fifty Cent and your guard is up, so you can tune in more easily to the messages that might preset danger to you or your children. But the next time you slip Raffi into the CD player, you better turn on your radar, 'cause trouble's on the next track.