Devils Terms
Travel the road that has no name
where the Devil awaits, though not in vain;
for this is the road of open trade
where nothing less, than you soul is weighed.
Come take your pick, from my specials today
just a little assurance, is all that you pay;
your wanting, so much, where do I sign
his finger, pointing, to the dotted line.
Glasses are raised a call for a toast
to the man whose body, now has no host;
the Devil grins, now the sale is sold
as he drinks from the cup, of a thousand souls.
Fiddlers bows cross there strings
drunk on the souls, the Deivl grins;
death be swift come high noon
when your soul will dance, my fiddlers tune.
D.J.Daniels
Copyright © David Daniels | Year Posted 2015
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment