Читать книгу A Phenomenal Fauna - Wells Carolyn - Страница 2

The Poppycock's a fowl of English breed,

And therefore many think him fine indeed.

Credulous people's ears he would regale,

And so he crows aloud and spreads his tale.

But he is stuffed with vain and worthless words;

Fine feathers do not always make fine birds.

The Haycock cannot crow; he has no brains,

No,—not enough to go in when it rains.

He is not gamy,—fighting's not his forte,

A Haycock fight is just no sort of sport.

Down in the meadow all day long he'll bide,

(That is a little hay-hen by his side.)