Classic Poem

There was an ant, a spinster ant,
Whose virtues were so many
That she became intolerant
Of those who hadn't any:
She had a small and frugal mind
And lived a life ascetic,
Nor was her temperament the kind
That's known as sympathetic.

I skip details. Suffice to say
That, knocking aTher wicket,
There chanced to come one autumn day
A common garden cricket
So ragged, poor, and needy that,
Without elucidation,
One saw the symptoms of a bat
Of several months duration.

He paused beside her door-step, and,
With one pathetic gesture,
He called attention with his hand
To both his shoes and vesture.
" I joined, " said he, " an opera troupe.
They suddenly disbanded,
And left me on the hostel stoop,
Lugubriously stranded.

" I therefore lay aside my pride
And frankly ask for clothing. "
" Begone! " the frugal ant replied.
" I took on you with loathing.
Your muddy shoes have spoiled the lawn,
Your hands have soiled the fence, too.
If you need money, go and pawn
Your watch — if you have sense to. "

The MORAL IS : Albeit lots
Of people follow Dr. Watts,
The sluggard, when his means are scant,
Should seek an uncle, not an ant!