The Impecunious Cricket and the Frugal Ant

There was an ant, a spinster ant,Whose virtues were so manyThat she became intolerantOf those who hadn't any:She had a small and frugal mindAnd lived a life ascetic,Nor was her temperament the kindThat's known as sympathetic.

I skip details. Suffice to sayThat, knocking at her wicket,There chanced to come one autumn dayA common garden cricketSo ragged, poor, and needy that,Without elucidation,One saw the symptoms of a batOf several months' duration.

He paused beside her door-step, and,With one pathetic gesture,He called attention with his handTo 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 prideAnd frankly ask for clothing.""Begone!" the frugal ant replied."I look on you with loathing.Your muddy shoes have spoiled the lawn,Your hands have soiled the fence, too.If you need money, go and pawnYour watch—if you have sense to."

The moral is: Albeit lotsOf people follow Dr. Watts,The sluggard, when his means are scant,Should seek an uncle, not an ant!