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As from his Book of Rules He read,
“Tsk-tsk tsk-tsk, St. Peter said.

So PICKED up I my bags and left
For that damnéd lower cleft.

I stomped away then turned and paused.
How much fuss had my fib caused?

A pardon'd come if I'd just wait.
Saint Pete just smiled then shut the gate.

God appeared with old St. Pete.
"We've a problem. We've got to meet." 

St. Peter said, "It's quite unique.
It's your records. We took a peek

at our polls, all done by Gallup.
Found your number. It's not up.

It takes us two to set things right.
I brought God to use his might." 

God said, "I've never sent souls back.
I did some research. Found a hack.

Turns out this problem's easily fixed.
Just stand still. My potion's mixed." 

A wink a nod a look my way
and God undid the whole last day.

They shook my hand and bade farewell,
said I wouldn't Go to Hell.

They faded slowly from my sight 
and dimmed their glow to black as night.

I reappeared, surprised my wife,
told her let's get on with life.

My death was just a clerical error.
They sent me back. It's only fairer.

We smooched and hugged, went out to eat.
Had pickled oysters fused with meat. 

We ordered crêpes with grated pear 
and lit 'em up to add some flair. 

Then I pondered what to do.
I quick thought up a thing or two.

I'd profit from financial schemes
using cash inversion themes.

I'd buy a cat and teach it tricks 
to wow the guests at trader Vic's. 

I'd give them all tatami mats
and waterproof electric hats. 

I paused a moment. I could see
My brand-new stuff was vintage me!

I mused a while: what to do?
I mused some more and then I knew.

I'm only happy being me. 
My plan was simple as can be.

I'll carry on with selling stuff
like pitted prunes and candied snuff!

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