There
once was a squire who, mounted on his thoroughbred, perchanced upon a mole on
the wayside by whence he wast travelling.
"Hiy!"
exclaimed this squire as he didst bring his steed to a standstill. "Who
art thou? And whenst comest thou?"
The mole
answering didst reply, "Noble squire, I ask that thou mightest remove thy mighty
feet from before my face for these doth smell as the muck of dirty animals such
as even I despise."
"What
didst thou speak?" roared the squire, teetering against the reign of his
faithful equestrian companion. "Hearest thou my demand, insignificant
creature of the ground! Speak up! for I canst not hear thee!"
"Oh
hush thy voice," saith the mole to the squire. "Thy voice doth sound
to my ears as the babbling brooks, and thy whole body, yay, it reeks of the
product whence comes from moulded potatoes."
Thus
there wast a muddled silence for lo, this brave mole continued to stand its
ground whilst his adversary didst pause, steadying his feet.
Thence
asked that squire again, "Why doth thou remain silent mole?" At
whence he didst bring his hand sharply to his forehead.
"What
a foolish fellow I am!" cried he. "Everyone knows that moles can't
speak!" And chuckling to himself, he went on his merry way.