'For sport once Renard, sly old sinner, Press'd gossip Stork to share his dinner. "Neighbour, I must entreat you'll stay And take your soup with me to-day. My praise shall not my fare enhance, But let me beg you'll take your chance; You're kindly welcome were it better." She yielded as he thus beset her, And soon arrived the pottage smoking In plates of shallow depth provoking. 'Twas vain the guest essay'd to fill With unsubstantial fare her bill. 'Twas vain she fish'd to find a collop, The host soon lapp'd the liquor all up. Dame Stork conceal'd her deep displeasure, But thought to find revenge at leisure; And said, "Ere long, my friend, you'll try My humble hospitality. I know your taste, and we'll contrive-- To-morrow I'm at home at five." With punctual haste the wily scoffer Accepts his neighbour's friendly offer, And ent'ring cries, "Dear Stork, how is it? You see I soon return your visit, I can't resist when you invite; I've brought a famous appetite. The steam which issues from your kitchen Proves that your pot there's something rich in." The Stork with civil welcome greeted, And soon at table they were seated, When lo! there came upon the board Hash'd goose in two tall pitchers pour'd-- Pitchers whose long and narrow neck Sly Renard's jaws completely check, Whilst the gay hostess, much diverted, Her bill with perfect ease inserted. The Fox, half mad at this retorter, Sought dinner in some other quarter. Hoaxers, for you this tale is written, Learn hence that biters may be bitten.'