We used to have a nighbor,
And she always talked a lot
About must anything,
Whether it was true or not.

A certain boy lived down the street,
Who seemed quite nice to me,
But she seemed to take a lot of pride
Talking of him, you see.

She would tell how mean he was
And the late hours he kept at night
And all about where he'd been
And about his latest fight.

One day her daughter went out to play
And wandered in the street;
A truck came careening toward her;
The driver slumped in the seat.

Like a flash something came across the street
Over on the other side
And pushed her daughter to safety,
But under the wheels had died.

The mother came running up,
Terrified, and in despair;
She asked,"Who is that brave lad,
The boy that's lying there?"

I raised my head slowly,
And our eyes did silently meet;
Then I spoke, "It's the boy,
The boy hat lived down the street."

It taught me a lesson,
One I'll never forget;
The words that we so carelessly use
Will someday be met.

Don't cast out the mote in your neighbor's eye,
While there's a beam in your own;
Tend to the affairs that belong to you,
And leave other people's alone.

Don't talk about others, neighbor,
And never tell a lie,
And if you must talk, for some are that way,
Well, you just testify.