  Rosy and ripe, and ready to box, The grapes hang high o'er the hungry Fox.-- He pricks up his ears, and his eye he cocks. 11,2 Ripe and rosy, yet so high!-- He gazes at them with a greedy eye, And knows he must eat and drink--or die. When the jump proves to be beyond his power-- "Pooh!" says the Fox. "Let the pigs devour Fruit of that sort. Those grapes are sour!" Those grapes are sour! 11,4 11,5 |
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