A MASTER crow, perched on a tree one day, |
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Was holding in his beak a piece of cheese. |
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A master fox, by th’ odor drawn that way, |
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Spake unto him in words like these: |
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“Good-morning, my Lord Crow! |
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How well you look, how handsome you do grow! |
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Upon my honor, if your note |
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Bears a resemblance to your coat, |
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You are the phœnix of the dwellers in these woods.” |
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At these words does the crow exceedingly rejoice; |
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And, to display his beauteous voice, |
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He opens a wide beak, lets fall his stolen goods. |
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The fox seized on’t, and said, “My dear good sir, |
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Learn you that every flatterer |
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Lives at the expense of him who hears him out. |
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This lesson is well worth some cheese, no doubt.” |
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The crow, ashamed, and much in pain, |
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Swore, but a little late, they’d not catch him again. |
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