A fox was trotting on the day,
And just above his head
He saw a vine with lovely grapes,
Rich, ripe and purple red.
Eager he tried to snatch the fruit,
But, ah ! it was too high !
Poor Reynard had to give up.
And heaving a deep sigh.
He curl’ his nose and said, ”dear me
I would not waste an hour
Upon such mean and common fruit
I am sure those grapes are sour !”
”Ti’s thus we often wish thro life,
When seeking wealth and power
And when we fail say, like the fox,
We’re sure the grapes are sour !”