The Wolf Turned Shepherd by Jean de La Fontaine

A wolf, whose gettings from the flocks / Began to be but few, / Bethought himself to play the fox / In character quite new. / A shepherd's hat and coat he took, / A cudgel for a crook, / Nor e'en the pipe forgot: / And more to seem what he was not, / Himself upon his hat he wrote, / 'I'm Willie, shepherd of these sheep. ' / His person thus complete, / His crook in upraised feet, / The impostor Willie stole upon the keep. / The real Willie, on the grass asleep, / Slept there, indeed, profoundly, / His dog and pipe slept, also soundly; / His drowsy sheep around lay. / As for the greatest number, / Much bless'd the hypocrite their slumber, / And hoped to drive away the flock, / Could he the shepherd's voice but mock. / He thought undoubtedly he could. / He tried: the tone in which he spoke, / Loud echoing from the wood, / The plot and slumber broke; / Sheep, dog, and man awoke. / The wolf, in sorry plight, / In hampering coat bedight, / Could neither run nor fight.

There's always leakage of deceit / Which makes it never safe to cheat. / Whoever is a wolf had better / Keep clear of hypocritic fetter.[1]