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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required Saw Old Scratch the other day Wanted to talk but couldn't stay Seems he was up to no good But then for him it's understood Fried chicken for my Sunday dinner Nothing is satisfying for saint or sinner When I was about to clean my plate Guess who came a walking up my gate He seemed to slither and almost glide And before I reached the door knob he's inside With that devilish grin from ear to ear Satan sat down and offered me my chair Sorry to have missed you the other day So happy to see you on this Sunday It seems we have business left undone If you sign your mark here I'll be on the run He unwind a scroll of black with signatures in red If you don't mind allow me to slit your finger to bled In blood is how your soul is sold Ounce by ounce blood for gold His eyes of dark smolder for he could sense I hesitated not interested at my soul's expense Now remember your dreams and your desires All is yours allow me to start the fire I cleared my throat and ruffled my hands Mr. Satan I don't think you quite understand Shush he pleaded with that long crooked finger If necessary I may have to linger He opened a red book and found my name He begin to read of my lust for fame Of my love for women and luxuries Sweetly and smoothly I was at ease Fortune and fame is the name of the game Enjoy life now for it's all the same Why struggle why fight why deny it Just give in to a little sin and try it He placed my hand into his own With a sharp finger nail hard is stone Pointing to the scroll, excuse my nail's stinger He begin to slice open my finger Quickly hurry before it is late I am schedule for a thousand fates But just is I was about to sign My doorbell rings its familiar chime I rose to the devil's great despair He shoved himself back grumbling in the chair Opening my door who did I fine But my guardian angel Clementine She looked at me with great displeasure She strolled toward Satan at her leisure Saw my finger and did not once spoke Wrapped the cut with a feather she broke Tapping her foot and looking for my name Praise Heaven she gleefully exclaimed Handing the scroll back to Old Nick She pointed to the door, Out and quick Satan smiled and waved his hand I'll be around you understand He turn and softly left in a fade Clementine shook her head, The Devil on Sunday? I'm still just mild and plain old me But the Pearly Gates I can see For every Sunday for as long as I live Singing with Clementine in our Church choir gig
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