I died in sin and forthwith went to Hell;
I made myself at home upon the coals
Where seas of flame break on the cinder shoals.
Till Satan came and said with angry yell,
"You there – divulge what route by which you fell."
"I spent my youth among the flowing bowls,
"Wasted my life with women of dark souls,
"Died brothel-fighting – drunk on muscatel."
Said he, "My friend, you’ve been directed wrong:
"You’ve naught to recommend you for our feasts –
"Like factory owners, brokers, elders, priests;
"The air for you! This place is for the strong!"
Then as I pondered, minded to rebel,
He laughed and forthwith kicked me out of Hell.
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From guest j bond (contact)
Robert Howard has written hundreds of poems. Many of which are epic in size and scope. This one is neither, but nonetheless, a really fun read. This time, Bob thumbs his nose at the local clergy and ex-bosses, making himself seem angelic in comparison. Bob had a great wit attached to an evil bone. -
I wish we could applaud old poems.
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