THE CONFIDING PEASANT AND THE MALADROIT BEAR
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| “AND SO A WEIGHTY ROCK SHE AIMED” |
A peasant had a docile bear,
A bear of manners pleasant,
And all the love she had to spare
She lavished on the peasant:
She proved her deep affection plainly
(The method was a bit ungainly).
The peasant had to dig and delve,
And, as his class are apt to,
When all the whistles blew at twelve
He ate his lunch, and napped, too,
The bear a careful outlook keeping
The while her master lay asleeping.
As thus the peasant slept one day,
The weather being torrid,
A gnat beheld him where he lay
And lit upon his forehead,
And thence, like all such winged creatures,
Proceeded over all his features.
The watchful bear, perceiving that
The gnat lit on her master,
Resolved to light upon the gnat
And plunge him in disaster;
She saw no sense in being lenient
When stones lay round her, most convenient.
And so a weighty rock she aimed
With much enthusiasm:
“Oh, lor’!” the startled gnat exclaimed,
And promptly had a spasm:
A natural proceeding this was,
Considering how close the miss was.
Now by his dumb companion’s pluck,
Which caused the gnat to squall so,
The sleeping man was greatly struck
(And by the bowlder, also).
In fact, his friends who idolized him
Remarked they hardly recognized him.
Of course the bear was greatly grieved,
But, being just a dumb thing,
She only thought: “I was deceived,
But still, I did hit something!”
Which showed this masculine achievement
Had somewhat soothed her deep bereavement.
THE MORAL: If you prize your bones
Beware of females throwing stones.
THE SYCOPHANTIC FOX AND THE GULLIBLE RAVEN
A raven sat upon a tree,
And not a word he spoke, for
His beak contained a piece of Brie,
Or, maybe, it was Roquefort:
We’ll make it any kind you please--
At all events, it was a cheese.
Beneath the tree’s umbrageous limb
A hungry fox sat smiling;
He saw the raven watching him,
And spoke in words beguiling.
“J’admire,” said he, “ton beau plumage.”
(The which was simply persiflage.)
Two things there are, no doubt you know,
To which a fox is used:
A rooster that is bound to crow,
A crow that’s bound to roost,
And which so ever he espies
He tells the most unblushing lies.
“Sweet fowl,” he said, “I understand
You’re more than merely natty,
I hear you sing to beat the band
And Adelina Patti.
Pray render with your liquid tongue
A bit from ‘Gotterdammerung.’”
This subtle speech was aimed to please
The crow, and it succeeded:
He thought no bird in all the trees
Could sing as well as he did.
In flattery completely doused,
He gave the “Jewel Song” from “Faust.”
But gravitation’s law, of course,
As Isaac Newton showed it,
Exerted on the cheese its force,
And elsewhere soon bestowed it.
In fact, there is no need to tell
What happened when to earth it fell.
I blush to add that when the bird
Took in the situation
He said one brief, emphatic word,
Unfit for publication.
The fox was greatly startled, but
He only sighed and answered “Tut.”
THE MORAL is: A fox is bound
To be a shameless sinner.
And also: When the cheese comes round
You know it’s after dinner.
But (what is only known to few)
The fox is after dinner, too.
THE PAMPERED LAPDOG AND THE MISGUIDED ASS
A woolly little terrier pup
Gave vent to yelps distressing,
Whereat his mistress took him up
And soothed him with caressing,
And yet he was not in the least
What one would call a handsome beast.
He might have been a Javanese,
He might have been a Jap dog,
And also neither one of these,
But just a common lapdog,
The kind that people send, you know,
Done up in cotton, to the Show.
At all events, whate’er his race,
The pretty girl who owned him
Caressed his unattractive face
And petted and cologned him.
And petted and cologned him.
While, watching her with mournful eye,
A patient ass stood silent by.
“If thus,” he mused, “the feminine
And fascinating gender
Is led to love, I, too, can win
Her protestations tender.”
And then the poor, misguided chap
Sat down upon the lady’s lap.
Then, as her head with terror swam,
“This method seems to suit you,”
Observed the ass, “so here I am.”
Said she, “Get up, you brute you!”
And promptly screamed aloud for aid:
No ass was ever more dismayed.
They took the ass into the yard
And there, with whip and truncheon,
They beat him, and they beat him hard,
From breakfast-time till luncheon.
He only gave a tearful gulp,
Though almost pounded to a pulp.
THE MORAL is (or seems, at least,
To be): In etiquette you
Will find that while enough’s a feast
A surplus will upset you.
Toujours, toujours la politesse, if
The quantity be not excessive.
THE ARROGANT FROG AND THE SUPERIOR BULL
Once, on a time and in a place
Conducive to malaria,
There lived a member of the race
Of Rana Temporaria;
Or, more concisely still, a frog
Inhabited a certain bog.
A bull of Brobdingnagian size,
Too proud for condescension,
One morning chanced to cast his eyes
Upon the frog I mention;
And, being to the manner born,
Surveyed him with a lofty scorn.
Perceiving this, the Bactrian’s frame
With anger was inflated,
Till, growing larger, he became
Egregiously elated;
For inspiration’s sudden spell
Had pointed out a way to swell.
“Ha! ha!” he proudly cried, “a fig
For this, your mammoth torso!
Just watch me while I grow as big
As you--or even more so!”
To which magniloquential gush
His bullship simply answered “Tush!”
Alas! the frog’s success was slight,
Which really was a wonder,
In view of how with main and might
He strove to grow rotunder!
And, standing patiently the while,
The bull displayed a quiet smile.
But ah, the frog tried once too oft
And, doing so, he busted;
Whereat the bull discreetly coughed
And moved away, disgusted,
As well he might, considering
The wretched taste that marked the thing.
THE MORAL: Everybody knows
How ill a wind it is that blows.
THE AMBITIOUS FOX AND THE UNAPPROACHABLE GRAPES
A farmer built around his crop
A wall, and crowned his labors
By placing glass upon the top
To lacerate his neighbors,
Provided they at any time
Should feel disposed the wall to climb.
He also drove some iron pegs
Securely in the coping,
To tear the bare, defenseless legs
Of brats who, upward groping,
Might steal, despite the risk of fall,
The grapes that grew upon the wall.
One day a fox, on thieving bent,
A crafty and an old one,
Most shrewdly tracked the pungent scent
That eloquently told one
That grapes were ripe and grapes were good
And likewise in the neighborhood.
He threw some stones of divers shapes
The luscious fruit to jar off:
It made him ill to see the grapes
So near and yet so far off.
His throws were strong, his aim was fine,
But “Never touched me!” said the vine.
The farmer shouted, “Drat the boys!”
And, mounting on a ladder,
He sought the cause of all the noise;
No farmer could be madder,
Which was not hard to understand
Because the glass had cut his hand.
His passion he could not restrain,
But shouted out, “You’re thievish!”
The fox replied, with fine disdain,
“Come, country, don’t be peevish.”
(Now “country” is an epithet
One can’t forgive, nor yet forget.)
The farmer rudely answered back
With compliments unvarnished,
And downward hurled the bric-a-brac
With which the wall was garnished,
In view of which demeanor strange,
The fox retreated out of range.
“I will not try the grapes to-day,”
He said. “My appetite is
Fastidious, and, anyway,
I fear appendicitis.”
(The fox was one of the elite
Who call it site instead of seet.)
The moral is that if your host
Throws glass around his entry
You know it isn’t done by most
Who claim to be the gentry,
While if he hits you in the head
You may be sure he’s underbred.
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