"Neighbour," said the Iron Pot, "Let us go abroad a little." "Thank you, I would rather not," Was the answer that he got. Earthenware, you know, is brittle; And the weaker Pot was wiser Than to trust his bad adviser.
"Mighty well for <i>you</i>" said he; "Skin like yours can hardly suffer Very much by land or sea, That is clear; but, as for <i>me</i>, Stop till I'm a little tougher. <i>You</i> may roam the wide world over; I shall stay at home in clover."
"Friend!" the Iron Pot replied, "Don't let such a fear affect you; I shall travel at your side: So, whatever may betide, Cling to me, and I'll protect you." Having won his friend's compliance, Off they started in alliance.
Jigging, jogging, on they went, Knocking one against the other; Till the Earthen Pot was sent (Past the powers of cement) Into atoms by his brother. 'Twas his <i>own</i> imprudence, clearly, That was paid for very dearly.
With our equals let us mate, Or dread the weaker vessel's fate.
The Lion, wounded by some subject's horn, Was naturally wroth, and made decree That all by whom such ornaments were worn From his domains forthwith should banished be. Bulls, Rams, and Goats at once obeyed the law: The Deer took flight, without an hour's delay. A timid Hare felt smitten, when he saw The shadow of his ears, with deep dismay. He feared that somebody, with eyes too keen, Might call them horns, they looked so very long. "Adieu, friend Cricket," whispered he; "I mean To quit the place directly, right or wrong. These ears are perilous; and, though I wore A couple short as any Ostrich wears, I still should run." The Cricket asked, "What for? Such ears are only natural in Hares." "They'll pass for horns," his frightened friend replied; "For Unicorn's appendages, I'm sure. And folks, if I deny it, will decide On sending me to Bedlam, as a cure."
A sly old Fox, a foe of Geese and Rabbits, Was taken captive in a trap one day (Just recompense of predatory habits), And lost his tail before he got away. He felt ashamed at such a mutilation; But, cunning as before, proposed a way To gain companions in his degradation; And spoke as follows, on a council-day:-- "Dear brother Foxes, what can be the beauty Or use of things so cumbrous and absurd? They only sweep the mud up. It's your duty To cut them off--it is, upon my word!" "Not bad advice: there <i>may</i> be wisdom in it," Remarked a sage, "but will you, by-the-by, Oblige us all by turning round a minute, Before we give a positive reply?" You never heard such hurricanes of laughter As hailed the cropped appearance of the rogue. Of course, among the Foxes, ever after, Long tails continued very much in vogue.