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A little timorous flop-eared Rabbit,
Took safe retreat, which was his habit,
In his burrow underground
Where he thought to be both safe and sound.
He had often perceived an artful Vixen
Lurking near a spot, pretending to be a friend.
She was there, waiting and watching
For an opportunity for seizing and devouring.
However, he lay secure for a time,
As the Vixen could not enter his burrow: fine.
One day, soon after, the devoted Rabbit
Saw two weasels and the Vixen together sit.
They were in deep confabulation,
Seemingly with great amity in fabrication,
Planing a strategy to ensnare the good rabbit.
After all; for carnivores that is their habit.
This, he conjectured, to be sure
Boded no good to himself or brothers pure.
As others have found as witness,
It too soon was to be his distress.
Claiming the best of intentions,
Only to understand the conflagrations.
The Weasels entered his burrow narrow
And attacked him with great furor.
Facing their fierceness, he had no chance
But, try to escape through the other entrance.
Alas, In an attempt to save his life
He chose to seek higher ground in strife.
Emerging from the house in light of day,
The rabbit was immediately seized as the Vixen's prey.
Together with the Weasels, she began to tear him in pieces,
Ignoring cries of innocence: they made fine speeches.
Thus this unfortunate victim of their arts,
In his dying agonies, uttering this complaint as he departs:
"I foresaw my doom, when you counseled further.
It's true, birds of feather do flock together."
As Aesop would perhaps have retold the story of the Rabbit, Weasel and Fox, after watching Jamie Gorelick and Bob Terry and Richard Ben-Veniste in action at the commission hearings. Name the rabbit as you wish; there were several victims of their assault.
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