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MODERN FABLES
THE CROW'S CHILDREN
A HUNTSMAN, bearing his gun a-field,
Went whistling merrily,
When he heard the blackest of black crows
Call out from a withered tree:—
"You are going to kill the thievish birds,
And I would, if I were you;
But you must not touch my family.
Whatever else you do."
"I'm only going to kill the birds
That are eating up my crop;
And if your young ones do such things,
Be sure they'll have to stop."
"O," said the crow, "my children
Are the best ones ever born
There isn't one among them all
Would steal a grain of corn."
"But how shall I know which ones they are?
Do they resemble you?"
"O, no," said the crow, "they're the prettiest birds,
And the whitest, ever flew."
