BALLAD OF THE FOXES

There is a golden glory in my song

As of a picture by Carpaccio,

For it is of the early morning-time

When every man believed with tender faith

That animals could talk — oh, lovely lore!

So, lady, listen as the lay runs on.

There was a goose, and she was travelling

Across the land for her dyspepsia,

And at the noontide sat to rest herself

In a small thicket, when there came along

Two starving foxes, perishing to find

Something which was not too-too-utter-ish

To serve for dinner. And as they were wild

For want of food, it was but natural

That they should likewise be confounded cross;

Oh, lady, listen as the lay runs on!

And as they halted near the thicket, one

Of them observed, “If you were half as sharp

As books make out, you would not now, I’ ll bet,

Be ravenous enough to gnaw the grass.”

“And if you were as big, or half as big,

As you believe you are,” snarled Number Two,

“You’ d be a lion of the largest size

Minus his roar, and pluck, and dignity.”

Oh, listen, lady, as the lay runs on!

“Please to observe I want no impudence

From any fifteen-nickel quadruped

Of your peculiar shape,” snapped Number One.

“And if you give me but another note

Of your chin-music,” snarled out Number Two,

“I’ ll make a wreck of you, you wretched beast,

Beyond insurance — bet your tail on that!”

Oh, lady, listen as the lay runs on!

“You are the champion snob of all the beasts!”

“And you the upper scum of all the frauds.”

“You are the weathercock of infamy.”

“And you the lightning-rod of falsehood’ s spire.”

“You are a thief!” “Ditto.” “You lie.” “I ain’ t.”

“Shut up, you goy!” And hearing this, the goose

Could bear no more, but walking from the bush,

Put on expression most benevolent,

And said, “Oh, gentlemen, for shame! for shame!

I’ ll settle this dispute: in the first place

Let me remark, as an impartial friend ——”

Oh, listen, lady, as the lay runs on!

But she did not remark, because they made

A rush at her and caught her by the throat,

And ate her up; and as they picked their teeth

With toothpicks made of her last pin-feathers,

The first observed, and that quite affably,

“Only a goose would ever make attempt

To settle a dispute when foxes fight”—

Oh, lady, listen as the lay runs on!

“And while I have a very great respect

For any peacemaker,” said Number Two,

“I would suggest that I invariably

Have found, if they be really honest folk

Who interfere with reprobates like us,

They’ re always eaten up; there is, I think,

More clanship between devils any day

Than among all the angels. Interest

Binds us together, and howe’ er we fight

Among ourselves to ease our bitter blood,

We do not hate each other half as much

As we do hate the good. Neighbours who fight

Can generally take most perfect care,

Not only of themselves, but of the goose

Who sticks her bill into the fuss they make.

This banquet now adjourns until it meets

Another wingéd angel of the sort

Which it has just discussed — may it be soon!”

Lady, this lyric runs no further on.