The Gossipmongers. Poem by PAUL COLVIN

The grapevine’s full of nasty tales, most are lies with little truth,
Spreading rumours so unkind, so malicious, vile and uncouth.
Gossipmongers’ tittle tattle, rattling off their ill-got news,
Those little squirming brainless folk, on Sundays perched upon church pews.

What’s in their minds? Do they set out to create such alarm?
A tiny minds an idle mind, I’m sure they mean no harm
But if they took, a minute’s pause, engaging brain before
Wagging tongues, and forked at that, they’d avoid a civil war!

The fairer sex, get all the blame but what about the men?
They’re just as bad at telling tales and swear to God it’s gen!
These luckless folks must have no pride if all they do is shatter
Some poor unfortunate person’s life, that’s lying now in tatters!

The sordid woes, the conjured lies, a dreamt up tale can hurt.
Innocent enough it starts but down the line becomes so curt.
A poisoned pen could not harm more if written by a cleric
Than lashing tongues of so called friends, those are laced with arsenic!