It’s nice when kids confide in me
And think I’m someone they can trust.
The problem with such secrecy
Is ‘less I tell I’m sure I’ll bust!

I start by giving hints and clues,
And soon the secret’s come and gone.
What good is knowing secret news
Unless you’re free to pass it on?

There must within me demons dwell
That use my mouth to secrets send.
I’ve got to beat this urge to tell
Or soon I’ll be without a friend.