The Little Red Hen

 (In the Manner of Hilaire Belloc)

A Hen of scarlet hue was blessed
With wit, with work, with sturdiness.
She found some wheat, and sweetly said:
“Who’ll plant it, so we all are fed?”

The Cat demurred, the Rat was sly,
The Pig declared: “Not I! Not I!”
So Hen alone both dug and sowed,
And watched it sprout, and watched it grow.

The harvest came, the stalks stood tall.
“Who’ll reap?” she cried. They shirked it all.
The Cat lay yawning, Rat grew fat,
The Pig lay snoring where he sat.

The Hen, unbowed, worked on instead,
Until she’d flour, until she’d bread.
“Now who will help me eat?” she said.
“I will!” the wicked trio pled.

But Hen replied with righteous rage:
“You would not work, yet seek the wage!
So since you will not share the load,
You’ll find no supper at my board.”

The Cat grew lean, the Rat turned wan,
The Pig was thinned till nearly gone.
They starved, while Hen grew sleek and proud—
Her loaf was golden, crisp, and loud.

MORAL:
Who shirks his duty, let him dread,
For idleness is ill for bread.
And those who only cry “Not I!”
Deserve, in truth, to starve—and die.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u1xTFn7NDzQ