Only last night he felt deadly sick, and, after a great deal of pain, two black crows flew out of his mouth and took wing from the room. Gesta RomanorumTale XLV.
Even the blackest of them all, the crow, Renders good service as your man-at-arms, Crushing the beetle in his coat of mail. And crying havoc on the slug and snail. LongfellowTales of a Wayside Inn. The Poets Tale. Birds of Killingworth. St. 19.