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
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