A xanthous cock on a sunny day
Scratched the land for food
For himself and his hens, he’d sway
Back and forth for good
He stumbled upon a precious stone
Abandoned on his land
He looked around. He was all alone
There was no claiming hand
“If your owner had found thee and not I
You’d be his first estate
Now in my coloured feathers you lie
In quite a futile state
A cherished crown you may adorn
With a sense of haughty air
I would rather have one barleycorn
Than all the jewels out there”

A fisherman skilled in heavenly tunes
Played his flute in the afternoons
When all the kids came back from school
To see them dance just like a fool
One day he took his flute to the shore
To see if the fishes will adore
The way he played his heavenly tunes
Just like the kids in the afternoons
So he sat on a rock and began to play
Hoping the fishes would swing and sway
Out of the sea straight into his net
So that he wouldn’t have to break a sweat
Now all day he piped his flute in vain
But not a fish he got for his pain
So at last he cast into the sea
His robust net lying idle and free
And caught an excellent haul of fish
More than what any man could wish
“O’ you corrupt creatures,” he said
“When I played my flute you almost acted dead
Now that I cast my net in the sea
You find your spark and dance merrily”

The busy ants were spending
A cold, cold winter day
Drying, searing, tending
Grains gathered in summer’s gay
A grasshopper there came passing
Choking with famine
“Don’t mean to be harassing
Can I have something to dine?”
The ants they all inquired
“In summer, where were you?”
“I sang as I desired”
Cried the ‘hopper feeling blue
The ants spoke in derision
“You sang the summer away
You did not stock provision
Now dance off your dismay”