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Let's Hear It for the Fox

By Danath

* * *

Of all the anthro types we know,

Perhaps but one takes insults so

And if it please the reader now

Examine thus and break it down

When hearing of this stereotype

Such savage utterance of hype:

The foxes here are just as sly

As high the birds fly in the sky

Their underbellies are too small

And of their height, not too tall

Their orange coats are always coarse

And voices gasp with rasping hoarse

Thus desp'rate for a solid meal

They live their lives to cheat and steal

All things coveted by looters

Beware, young maids' healthy hooters!

And not to mention how they smell

They're of the bent brings doom and hell

It's simply quite a load of tripe

And those who utter it are ripe

That's ripe, not right, I say again

Or rather, write here with my pen

A bald-faced lie of a cursed cur

A damnable trick of old Ur

Appearances will start the course

For jealous hearts' lies fan the source

The fox has no unhappy mien

He's always happy to be seen

He smiles at all who pass his way

Forgive when he lets passes stray

He's hardly of the type to harm

With reddish fur and roguish charm

A swinging tail, a clever brain

Cuteness causes enemy pain

Which leads us into lesson two

In which 'popufur' makes ado

Is popularity so bad?

Is wanting to be liked a fad?

But foxes do not come and go

They've always been the fandom though

Should a species be popular

Or should we be particular

And limit who can choose to be

A version of a cute foxy?

Each vulpine to their own, say I

For reasons have they; I shan't pry

No more of this criticism

That breaks beneath vulpine prism

Red, black, and white are not the end

Possessed among the foxy friend

But brown, white, gold, and black, as well

And why stop there when we have more?

Imagination lets us soar

Think of foxes as of flowers

A bold collection of mind powers

From sapphire and emerald,

Pink, gray, robotic assembled

Or royal purple underglow

With polka dots for extra show

Let's now dispense with pelt and shade

This vulpine rescue begs more aid

I'll write next of, of all the choices,

Of harsh ridicule of voices

Not ev'ry being can be so perfect

As to have not one small defect

Perhaps a fox's passioned cries

Unsweetly tend the ears it fries

But let not this small, tiny thing

Upon a species whole doom bring

Sit up straight, nigh end of session

Attention now, for this question

Just why are foxes criminals?

The villain of the animals?

Petty thieves, such reputation

Keeps foxes low in their station

Fantastic thefts or robbing 'hoods,

Foul fellows named in motherhood?

Bestial epics call him trickster

Implying even he'd sell a sister

Strong in counsel is no sin; yet,

Twisted minds fabricated threat

Foxes need to live just the same

They have no ulterior aim

We come now to the close of school

The class is dismissed, go be cool

But, you ask, what about the last?

The unanswered lie I'll end fast?

I think I know of what you mean

Alas, the answer is not clean

Should thou bewarest a vulpine gaze?

Avoid the leash of lovestruck days?

Tender not yourself to tender?

Say 'no' to love's eager sender?

Look past the eyes of the foxy

And ignore the tail so waggy?

There's truth at the core of a lie

That causes the lie to go by

So I'll end not in confusion

But instead without illusion:

Yeah, foxes are horny, like, 24/7, confirmed, no cap, no cap