Foxen

“Oh! is hur wull—I know hur run dro' the hedge, and I'll put summit ther to stop the traffic; foxen be but warmints a'ter all's said and done, and I'll hae the ould chap's brush afore to-morrow night.”

Do they still read in the Bible before them, 'The foxen have holes, and the birds of the air have nestis,' as they then did?

What a jolly run for our money! How I don't like foxen! Over we go, boys! Joiks!

“Well, young fella, times were hard for a spell. Almost every night them danged foxen were raiding my henhice.” “Excuse me, sir,” I interjected. “Don't you mean foxes?” “Nope, I don't,” Pluribus replied. “I use oxen to plow my fields, so it's foxen that I'm trying to get rid of.”

Tried for what? What did he ever do but hunt boar and deer and foxen? Is it the council of the foxen trying him?

Victor and I are having a huge argument about whether or not to feed the foxen. Victor says yes, because they're adorable and— according to the neighbors—are quite tame. I say no, because we have a fat little pug who likes to frolic outside occasionally and I don't want to see him eaten. I thought we were on the same page about the fox, but then Victor went and threw an apple at it. And I was all, “What the fuck? We don't feed the foxen,” and he said, “I was throwing the apple at it to chase it away,” but Victor is a tremendous liar, and he didn't go to pick up the apple, probably because he knows that foxen love apple cider.

The man snorted. “Can't even get any peace on top of a mountain. Bad enough I have to put up with the bloody foxen eating my hens and that blasted eagle trying to snatch lambs.” Rolf arched an eyebrow. “Foxen?” Carrie shrugged. “Sure, plural of fox. Ox, oxen, fox, foxen.”

I Did then […] obſserve one Main Advantage that the Foxen Generation, and all the Twiſting brood of Snakes and Serpents (attendants in chief upon the Fox his ſubtilty) did and do enjoy before any Beaſt of prey (or of labour either) in the Wilderneſs.

Behind a foxen muff enormous?

True hands they gave and took / And down beneath, with foxen eyes / On the king's host they look.