The Fox and the Stork by Jean de La Fontaine

Old Mister Fox was at expense, one day, / To dine old Mistress Stork. / The fare was light, was nothing, sooth to say, / Requiring knife and fork. / That sly old gentleman, the dinner-giver, / Was, you must understand, a frugal liver. / This once, at least, the total matter / Was thinnish soup served on a platter, / For madam's slender beak a fruitless puzzle, / Till all had pass'd the fox's lapping muzzle. / But, little relishing his laughter, / Old gossip Stork, some few days after, / Return'd his Foxship's invitation. / Without a moment's hesitation, / He said he'd go, for he must own he / Ne'er stood with friends for ceremony. / And so, precisely at the hour, / He hied him to the lady's bower; / Where, praising her politeness, / He finds her dinner right nice. / Its punctuality and plenty, / Its viands, cut in mouthfuls dainty, / Its fragrant smell, were powerful to excite, / Had there been need, his foxish appetite. / But now the dame, to torture him, / Such wit was in her, / Served up her dinner / In vases made so tall and slim, / They let their owner's beak pass in and out, / But not, by any means, the fox's snout! / All arts without avail, / With drooping head and tail, / As ought a fox a fowl had cheated, / The hungry guest at last retreated.

Ye knaves, for you is this recital, / You'll often meet Dame Stork's requital.[1]