Classic Poem

THE FOX TURNED PREACHER .

A LEARNED Fox grown stiff with eild,
Unable now in open field,
By speed of foot and clever stends,
To seize and worry lambs and hens;
But Lowry never wants a shift
To help him out at a dead lift.
He cleath'd himsell in reverend dress,
And turn'd a preacher, naething less!
Held forth wi' birr 'gainst wier unjust,
'Gainst theft and gormandizing lust.
Clear was his voice, his tone was sweet,
In zeal and mien he seem'd complete;
Sae grave and humble was his air,
His character shin'd wide and fair.
'Tis said the Lion had a mind
To hear him; but Mess Fox declin'd
That honour: reasons on his side
Said that might snare him into pride:
But sheep and powtry, geese and ducks,
Came to his meeting-hole in flocks;
Of being his prey they had nae fear,
His text the contrary made clear.

 “Curst be that animal voracious,”
Cry'd he, “sae cruel and ungracious,
“That chuses flesh to be his food,
“And takes delight in waughting blood!—
“What, live by murder!—horrid deed!
“While we have trees, and ilka mead,
“Finely enrich'd with herbs and fruits,
“To serve and please the nicest brutes.
“We shou'd respect, dearly belov'd,
“Whate'er by breath of life is mov'd.
“First, 'tis unjust; and, secondly,
“'Tis cruel, and a cruelty
“By which we are expos'd (O sad!)
“To eat perhaps our lucky dad:
“For ken, my friend, the saul ne'er dies,
“But frae the failing body flies;
“Leaves it to rot, and seeks anither;
“Thus young Miss Goose may be my mither;
“The bloody wowf, seeking his prey,
“His father in a sheep may slay;
“And I, in worrying lambs or cocks,
“Might choak my grandsire Doctor Fox.
“Ah! heaven protect me frae sic crimes!
“I 'd rather die a thousand times.”

 Thus our bob-tail'd Pythagoras preach'd,
And with loud cant his lungs out-stretch'd.
His sermon sounded o'er the dale,
While thus he moraliz'd with zeal.
His glass spun out, he ceast, admir'd
By all who joyfully retir'd.

 But after a' the lave was gane,
Some geese, twa chickens, and a hen,
Thought fit to stay a little space,
To tawk about some kittle case.
The doctor hem'd, and in he drew them,
Then quiet and decently he slew them;
On whom he fed the good auld way.
Those who wan aff, thrice happy they.