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THE WOLF TURNED SHEPHERD. Jean de La Fontaine

A Wolf who found in cautious flocks
His tithes beginning to be few,
Thought that he′d play the part of Fox,
A character at least quite new.
A Shepherd′s hat and coat he took,
And from a branch he made a hook;
Nor did the pastoral pipe forget.
To carry out his schemes he set,
He would have liked to write upon his hat,
"I′m Guillot, Shepherd of these sheep!"

And thus disguised, he came, pit-pat,
And softly stole where fast asleep
Guillot himself lay by a stack,
His dog close cuddling at his back;
His pipe too slept; and half the number
Of the plump sheep was wrapped in slumber.
He′s got the dress—could he but mock
The Shepherd′s voice, he′d lure the flock:
He thought he could.
That spoiled the whole affair—he′d spoken;
His howl re-echoed through the wood.
The game was up—the spell was broken!
They all awake, dog, Shepherd, sheep.
Poor Wolf, in this distress
And pretty mess,
In clumsy coat bedight,
Could neither run away nor fight.

At last the bubble breaks;
There′s always some mistake a rascal makes.
The Wolf like Wolf must always act;
That is a very certain fact.

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