A wolf for days had sought in vain
A satisfying meal.
No longer could he get a taste
Of either lamb or veal.
The sheep and calves, on his approach,
Would swiftly take to heel.
“Also, it is my shaggy cost
That warms tgem,” grumbled he.
And so a sheepskin from a farm
He stole with artful glee,
And slipped inside- a masquerade
Through which but few could see.
The sheep, still nibbling unconcerned,
Mistook him for their kin.
So many a hearty mutton feast
That daring fraud took in.
For only those can know their foes
Who look beneath the skin.
