As birds hop from tree to flowers In search of juicy juices to sulk so does the wicked one to high towers for the goodness of life to mock.
With his feet he walks many miles while his tongue spreads ruthless lies at someone's discomfort he smiles to ambush a good man he slays.
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When people quarrel he hopes for violence when nations disagree he prays for war he hopes the world sees no peace he is never refined but ever raw, wishes the pregnant tummy bursts hopes disaster befalls any peaceful crowd.
That the life of the virtuous ends in the worst with no shame he speaks his thought aloud wicked at heart or wicked in deeds Both do no good to our human race they plant nothing but bad seeds.
Yet they often possess the winning ace a land ever at war begets wicked offspring since man wears clothes with weapons as pleats everyone watches the other as if evil would from him spring which way seen, the wicked are nothing but beasts.
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