The Holy Backbiter

Image by Reimund Bertrams from Pixabay

Here creeps a well-adapted example or rare fauna –
A crossbreed seldom spotted, half-rat and half-piranha;
A cunning stealth attacker and skilful bottom feeder,
You will not see him coming and will not hear him either.

He lurks in the bushes, always sniffing for blood,
In hopes that his prey buckles down in the mud;
His long sharpened teeth he will thrust only then –
And woe to this creature if it rises again.

Mind not his fine manners and polished attire;
His morals are those of a hangman for hire.
He will smile in good nature, to craftily mask it,
And then laugh as he drives the last nail in your casket.

His debonair grin hides a venomous knave;
Slight him just once and he’ll dig you a grave;
For revenge he prowls keenly, come sunshine or drizzle,
Around another man’s family, the cowardly weasel.

Lest slander was useful when rapacity beckoned
He wouldn’t care about morals for a third of a second,
But from gutter tale monger, to widen his scope
He puts on a mitre and anoints himself Pope.

He flatters his targets and like the Pied Piper
Sows discord between them, the snivelling viper;
Playing all sides in turn, to avance his own plan:
He gains trust from many; deserves it from none.

With his love for backbiting and libellous tale,
At great pains could you ever describe him as male;
When called out, he finds it abnormally witty
To throw himself down like the possum for pity.

Would someone thus take it and toss him a Rennie,
Lest he vomits in wails for the loss of a penny;
His honour for change he’d be sullen to barter
If he were half a man, and not merely a quarter.

Disclaimer:

This is satire. Any resemblance with actual people is purely coincidental.  🙂

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