There is a rat in the ranks.
Whom dines and gives no thanks.
Whom in dim lit light sharpens shanks.
On unadulterated trust the rat banks.
Waiting to betray with ill thought words.
To speak the secrets that should have gone unheard.
Tall tails that should be absurd.
Lies that will make your blood turn to curd.
This rat has no conscience and relies on ill thoughts.
To elate oneself in the animosity brought.
With backbiting and cutting words, friendships cut short.
How does this rat keep its back taught?
Without a spine. Without remorse.
This rat's lies run their course.
Until the pied piper comes with force.
Casting light on the shadows of lies.
Holding the rats tail before the ranks eyes.
Truth is this rats demise.
Once again the ranks are whole
And the rat is told
Be gone with your wicked stir
The rat is never deterred.
The rat scuttles away
To continue the games that the rat does play.