There she goes, walking down the street A head of steam like a fire-breathing dragon Following behind, is her very best friend Her trusty little tattle wagon Participating in all community events This woman is constantly on the go Keeping her gossip antenna honed For secrets that are not hers to know Intruding in people's conversation Carefully listening to them prattle Licking her chops and laughing inside Hoping to hear something naughty to tattle Thinking nothing of her transgressions She likes her tidbits juicy and cruel Adds her own spin when she passes them on And needs a bib to catch all the drool Swooping down like a hungry vulture Not caring about the havoc she wreaks We take her gossip with a grain of salt Knowing it's really attention she seeks She made some friends many years ago Hasn't seen hide nor hair of them since They got a whiff of her long forked tongue For what she doesn't know, she invents I'm the last one to claim to be perfect And her actions, I know I shouldn't be judging But, just one time, I'd like to hear her converse Without adding things, lying and fudging Instead of avoiding her, the Christian thing to do Is have some pity on her poor old soul Though I know her gums will go on flapping Until she's deep in a six-foot hole Most times, she gets home after dark Her heart pleased but her tired body dragging But the very next day, she'll be on the street Pulling that little red tattle wagon Kathleen McCoy Eldridge© August 16, 2007 All Rights Reserved
Everywhere You Go
Barefoot's Midi Jamboree