 | The collected works of Ambrose Bierce |  |
HÆC FABULA DOCET
A rat who'd gorged a box of baneAnd suffered an internal pain
Came from his hole to die (the label
Required it if the rat were able)
And found outside his habitat
A limpid stream. Of bane and rat
'Twas all unconscious; in the sun
It ran and prattled just for fun.
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The beast immersed his filthy nose
And drank—then, bloated by the stream,
And filled with superheated steam,
Exploded with a rascal smell,
Remarking, as his fragments fell
Astonished in the brook: “I'm thinking
This water's damned unwholesome drinking!”
| The collected works of Ambrose Bierce | |