Perched in a treetop, old Mister Crow
Was holding a cheese in his beak.
Drawn by the stench, Miss Fox, down below,
Peered up, then proceeded to speak.
"Well, hello, fair Sir Crow! Lovely day!
How you dazzle my eyes! How rare your display!
Not to lie, if your voice when you sing
Is as fine as the cut of your wing
I'll know you're the Phoenix reborn in these woods!"
At these words the old crow became giddy with pleasure
And, thinking to prove his voice a treasure,
He opened his big beak-and promptly dropped the goods.
Fox pounced upon her prize and said, "My dear, dear sir,
Learn now that every flatterer
Lives at the cost of those who give him credit.
That lesson's worth a cheese no doubt, so don't forget it!"
The crow, in shame and deep chagrin,
Swore, a bit late, never again to be taken in.
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