An Ass was feeding in a pasture near a wood when he saw a Wolf lurking in the shadows along the hedge. Now that I think of it, I have a wonderful wine here, sent me from Olympus, of which I am told Apollo drinks before he sings to the high gods. He had no chance to bite the watchful Countryman. Wolf!, But though the Villagers heard the cry, they did not run to help him as they had before. As they went along, picking up provisions on the way - a stray mouse here, a fat chicken there - they began an argument to while away the time between bites. Or is it his wrinkled hide? They have taken all they can hold. But you gave yourself away with that silly bray.
Boast of one thing and you will be found lacking in that and a few other things as well.