A Dog stood in his master’s spacious yard.
In came an old man with his scrip, all dirty.
The Dog barked at him, keeping guard.
‘I’m a poor fellow. Please have mercy!’
Whispered the old man, shaking, full of dread.
‘I have not eaten. I shall die from hunger!’
‘That’s why I bark like thunder!’
The Dog said. ‘Am I here to see you fed?’
Appearances can so deceive the righteous.
Beasts can be kind, and gentle folk can bite us.
I.I. Dmitriyev, 1804