A mild, well-meaning snake
Approved the adaptations he had made
For safety's sake.
He liked the skin he had--
Its mottled camouflage, its look of mail,
And was content that he had thought to add
A rattling tail.
The tail was not for drumming up a fight;
No, nothing of the sort.
And he would only use his poisoned bite
As last resort.
A peasant now drew near,
Collecting wood; the snake, observing this,
Expressed concern by uttering a clear
But civil hiss.
The simple churl, his nerves at once unstrung,
Mistook the other's tone
And dashed his brains out with a deftly-flung
Preemptive stone.
Moral
Security, alas, can give
A threatening impression;
Too much defense-initiative
Can prompt aggression.
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