A Dog, proud of her new-born family,
And needing shelter for her restless brood,
Begged a snug kennel with such urgency,
A generous friend at last was found who would
Supply her pressing need—so it was lent.
After a week or so the good soul went
And asked it back.—"Only a fortnight more:"
The little ones could hardly walk as yet;
′Twas kindly granted as before.
The second term expired, again they met:
The friend demands her house, her room, her bed.
This time the graceless Dog showed teeth, and scowled;
"I and my children are prepared to go," she growled,
"If you can put us out and reign instead."
By this time they were grown,
And better left alone.
Lend to bad men, and you′ll regret it much;
To draw from them the money right,
You must plead, and you must fight,
Or else your gold you′ll never touch.
Only the truth I mean to tell:
Give them an inch, they′ll take an ell.
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