The crow you never meant to treat;
You left him what you could not eat;
And man, who most a villain needs,
Detests you for your wicked deeds.
You pilfer duckling, game, and chicken,
Which furnish man with dainty picking.
There’s not a poacher roams the wood,
But who would shoot you, if he could.”
Just had he said; forth pops a spark,
With gun and spaniel from the park;