"I certainly think," said a fox to a crane,
"That face, ma'am of yours is remarkably plain;
That beak that you wear is so frightful a feature,
It makes you appear a most singular creature."
The crane, much offended at what she had heard,
March'd off at full speed, without saying a word:
"Oh dear!" said the fox, "Mrs. Crane, I protest
You misunderstand me, 'twas only a jest."
"Come, don't be affronted--stay with me and dine;
You know very well 'tis this temper of mine
To say such odd things to my intimate friends;
But you know that poor Reynard no mischief intends."
So the crane thought it best not to break with him quite,
But to view his remarks in a good-natured light.
So she put on as pleasant a face as she could
When he ask'd her to dine, and replied that she would.
But alas! she perceived that his jokes were not over,
When Reynard removed from the victuals its cover
'Twas neither game, butcher's meat, chicken, not fish;
But plain gravy-soup, in a broad shallow dish.
Now this the fox lapp'd with his tongue very quick,
While the crane could scarce dip in the point of her beak;
"You make a poor dinner," said he to his guest;
"Oh, dear! by no means," said the bird, "I protest."
But the crane ask'd the fox on a subsequent day,
When nothing, it seems, for their dinner had they
But some minced meat served up in a narrow-neck'd jar;
Too long, and narrow, for Reynard by far.
"You make a poor dinner, I fear," said the bird;
"Why, I think," said the fox, "'twould be very absurd
To deny what you say, yet I cannot complain,
But confess, though a fox, that I'm matched by a crane."