Some are born to make incessant demands
From others, though they themselves are too mean.
They want others should make for them errands,
While they themselves simply sit, strut and preen.
They do not have something to contribute
But are ready to pick at others’ words.
They crow too loudly, making others mute;
They can’t tolerate sweet chirping of birds.
But such meanness they perceive as shrewdness,
Thinking it shows their own intelligence.
Upon others their nasty views they press.
At every step they test others’ patience.
God, give them a measure of your kind grace
So that without rancor the world they face.
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