The Fox with his Tail Cut Off

A cunning old fox, of plundering habits, / Great crauncher of fowls, great catcher of rabbits, / Whom none of his sort had caught in a nap, / Was finally caught in somebody's trap. / By luck he escaped, not wholly and hale, / For the price of his luck was the loss of his tail. / Escaped in this way, to save his disgrace, / He thought to get others in similar case. / One day that the foxes in council were met, / 'Why wear we,' said he, 'this cumbering weight, / Which sweeps in the dirt wherever it goes? / Pray tell me its use, if any one knows. / If the council will take my advice, / We shall dock off our tails in a trice. ' / 'Your advice may be good,' said one on the ground; / 'But, ere I reply, pray turn yourself round. ' / Whereat such a shout from the council was heard, / Poor bob-tail, confounded, could say not a word. / To urge the reform would have wasted his breath. / Long tails were the mode till the day of his death.[1]

[1]: Aesop; Faerno.