Haec Fabula Docet by Ambrose Bierce

A rat who’d gorged a box of bane And suffered an internal pain Came from his hole to die (the label Required it if the rat were able) And found outside his habitat A limpid stream. Of bane and rat ’Twas all unconscious; in the sun It ran and prattled just for fun. Keen to allay his inward throes, The beast immersed his filthy nose And drank⁠—then, bloated by the stream, And filled with superheated steam, Exploded with a rascal smell, Remarking, as his fragments fell Astonished in the brook: “I’m thinking This water’s damned unwholesome drinking!”