Once, on a time and in a place
Conducive to malaria,
There lived a member of the race
Or, more concisely still, a frog
Inhabited a certain bog.
A bull of Brobdingnagian size,
Too proud for condescension,
One morning chanced to cast his eyes
Upon the frog I mention;
And, being to the manner born,
Surveyed him with a lofty scorn.
Perceiving this, the bactrian's frame
With anger was inflated,
Till, growing larger, he became
For inspiration's sudden spell
Had pointed out a way to swell.
'Ha! ha!' he proudly cried, 'a fig
For this, your mammoth torso!
Just watch me while I grow as big
As you-or even more so!'
To which magniloquential gush
His bullship simply answered 'Tush!'
Alas! the frog's success was slight,
Which really was a wonder,
In view of how with main and might
He strove to grow rotunder!
And, standing patiently the while,
The bull displayed a quiet smile.
But ah, the frog tried once too oft
And, doing so, he busted;
Whereat the bull discreetly coughed
And moved away, disgusted,
As well he might, considering
The wretched taste that marked the thing.
THE MORAL: Everybody knows
How ill a wind it is that blows.