Hell
I sauntered out of an Irish Pub
Basted in booze and Irish smooze
The whiskeys sure didn’t cover the blues
Me, I knew this wasn’t good news
As a crossed the street
I met a bus, Full of nuns, all in a fuss
There was no contest, the bus sure won
I was run over and ready for a place with no sun
I arrived in hell, this surly no surprise
At least I was drunk, or so Satan surmised
He looked confused and asked who am I?
A Lawyer? a Dictator? or maybe I was both?
I apologized profusely for I surely was not
Any of those professions, I'm no in their lot
He asked if I was expecting 72 virgins?
As drunk as I was, I said I was not
He was angry and mad, there was doubt
What could the Devil do? He seemed in a stew
So he gave me a degree, in Law and Justice
So I could live in hell among all the others untrusted!
Notes: No Lawyers were hurt or maimed in the writing of this poem, and I apologize for that!
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