Listen to poem:
Change of spots for a turncoat
A turncoat sheds his skin, like autumn leaves,
To don a new coat with many bright hues.
With a mask, and an overcoat for thieves,
For whom or what, when, his deceit may choose.
Once clad in virtue, now as a fraud dressed,
Hiding the old spots of truth frayed, faded,
That once for friends and loyalties professed,
Now remain as scars, torn and abraded.
He knows no truth, nor love, nor noble dream,
For chameleon's spots are insecure,
Flitting and feigning camouflaged esteem,
Beneath the coat of colored spots, impure.
Can a change of skin or spots on a coat,
Ever excuse a lying turncoat's gloat?
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