Once there was a rabbit whose sole occupation was going about the warrens of other rabbits and throwing dirt down them. He thought it the best amusement. The other rabbits hated him. One day a fox appeared. Since the rabbit had blocked his own means of escape down a hole, the fox caught him easily.

‘Don’t eat me,’ said he to the fox.

‘Oh … but it is in my nature to eat rabbits. And you filled up your hole, an odd thing to do.’

‘I am a fool and regret it.’

‘That’s nothing to me.’

‘It was just a joke,’ the rabbit said.

‘Then why aren’t you laughing?’ said the fox, who was known as something of a philosopher amongst foxes. ‘You’ve made yourself a martyr to your own stupidity.’

‘It was funny,’ said the rabbit. ‘Please don’t eat me.’

‘A very strange sense of humour. But why do you think you should not be my lunch?’

‘I can make you laugh.’

The fox narrowed his eyes.

‘Or I can make you cry,’ said the rabbit desperately. 

‘Why would I want that?’

The rabbit was grasping at straws. ‘Then I can make you think.’

‘Quite out of the question. I was not bred debate my food. However, I will grant you one grace.’

‘Pray, release me.’

‘No chance. But I will make you a grave and observe all the forms and write your epitaph.’

‘If it must be …’

‘It must. Now what do you want your gravestone to say?’

The rabbit thought a moment and whispered into the fox’s ear. At which the rabbit was devoured and a grave made on which was written the words in fox hand:

     I was a fool, but by these lines the fox made me immortal.