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FABLES FOR THE FRIVOLOUS

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-à—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 élite
  Who call it site instead of seet.)

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