When by the wacky vagaries of fate
You find yourself possessed of evidence
That, generally known, would stir up great
Hilarity and laughter at events-

How difficult it is remaining mum
When you just want to holler from on high,
And bite at probability your thumb,
Thus bidding secrecy a fond goodbye.

Intolerable to have fire within
That must needs suffer from asphyxiation-
To tell is disappointment and chagrin;
Maintaining silence brings no consolation.

Though indiscretions make their cases well,
I hold my tongue, though tales it longs to tell.