Gossip right and left you're strowing,
Never heeding what you do;
Tho' each idle word you're sowing
Friend and neighbour long may rue.
When we marked you lately loosing
Stone from yonder green hill's side,
You but in your sport were choosing
Swift adown to see it glide.
You look'd pale tho', when in fury,
Like a mad thing just releas'd,
Threatening work for judge and jury,