Betty Jones was a talker.
Had the whole town spun in her web.
Door to door she'd collect her prey. Cunningly, she'd score on each stay.
In confidence, they'd all come clean
About some week old drama
or the fresh cooked steam.
And while she twisted
And plotted
and sewed
the lies and propaganda began to grow.
She became ever so greedy
with reputations held up in her fist
that she didn't seem to notice, really, the deep hole they'd dug in her midst.
Shed thought she had it made,
her silky voice and her grin....
Thought she'd go on forever....
Until one day the did her in!
Betty Jones was a talker.
Had the whole town spun in her web.
Not thinking of the consequences.
She ended up dead.
“If you propose to speak, always ask yourself, is it true, is it necessary, is it kind?”
