In Criticism of Back Door Gossip

It’s awkward when someone comes to me
Insisting upon my sympathy
In order to gripe, in depth, or such
About another I don’t like much
To steal my time in useless moaning
To share with me their grumbly-groaning
I could, with all this, do without
They’ll keep me all day, there’s no doubt.

And what am I to say or do
To prove my loyalty that’s true
Whilst not upsetting the complainant
And yet maintain best restraint
Lest I should put my foot in it
The ol’ proverbial pile of shit
Be thought of a closet sneak
If not agreeing with this cheek
Of saying words to folk like me
Whose best defence deafness would be
Words should be said and not just in token
To the one who caused them to be spoken.

The moral of this little po-em
Is DON’T TELL ME
But go straight to ‘em
Bombard them to your satisfaction
Then run like hell from their reaction
Let them know you are no clown
No silly twit to be shot down
But someone sensitive, who suffers
From idle talk, by silly buffers.