A Raven perched near river’s bend,
He spied a Snake, his slithering friend.
The Raven whispered, “Steal that grain,
And should they catch you, I’ll explain:
I never told you what to do,
Your theft’s your own — not mine, but you.”
The Snake obeyed, the grain was gone,
The farmer woke at break of dawn.
He caught the Snake, who hissed in fright,
“The Raven made me steal tonight!”
But Raven croaked, with solemn face,
“Who saw me speak? Can you prove the case?”
The farmer scorned the Snake’s reply,
And struck him down beneath the sky.
The Raven flew, his feathers proud,
Untouched, unblamed before the crowd.
⸻
Moral:
When cunning bids another sin,
The hand is clean, though foul within.
Beware the voice that hides its aim —
It shifts the guilt, but shares the blame
The End
