Bad words. James chapter three.

 

Not s’pose to gripe

Not s’pose to gloat

Else those unt’ward words

Might stick in my throat.

Else my face turn sour

Like to mirror my heart

So that folks might know

Of the darker arts

Crawling neath my skin.

That I let come in.

By some ill made out

Where was once devout.

So you see my tongue

Steers the whole ship ‘bout.