My Blabbermouth Cousin Neely

I know a secret Neely told me, no lie. Don’t tell me, I cautioned her. It could make you die. She followed me around all that day and the next. I gave her the cootchie eye, and a brave genuflex. She would not leave me alone, she wanted to tell. I told her she’d better not, for blabbermouths don’t sell. She will not have another friend if she banters this secret about. She was bursting to tell me, and soon she did shout. The secret as hard as she could, which was to the treetops. I could not make her stop; she was flatly out of all stops. The secret flew into the window of every neighbor on the block. Her parents were aghast; they might as well not had a lock. Now everyone knows what goes on in her house. She has been called a snitch, a blabbermouth and a louse. I know I should take some of the blame, but I can’t, not really. It’s not my fault she cannot hold a secret, my young Cousin Neely.