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FABLES FOR THE FRIVOLOUS

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.

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