There’s a ‘No Vacancy’ sign now
Outside the gates of hell,
The queue outside is serpentine
poor Satan looks unwell…
He’s tried that hotline to heaven
The stairway has long burned
All his effort to no avail
No calls were ever returned
In a huff, he gathered his stuff
And started on a walk
His trident now his walking stick
Stress has ruined this bloke!
Not far in heaven, our dear Lord
shook his head in disbelief!
‘Ol Satan’s off his rocker’s, I say
Oh! holy goodness grief!
In heaven, fires cannot start
Or doesn’t the fella know
We’re ill-equipped to handle his job
Go tell that fella to go!
Let’s reach a compromise I say,
Asked Satan pleadingly
I cannot handle the workload alone
You’ve got to help me!
There’s a major problem here, Satan
You have to understand
Compared to your frightening fires
Ours are just plain bland!
Then how shall we dole out punishments
to mortals with souls that stink
Can we leave them scot-free?
At the mere thought, my heart sinks!
So finally in heaven, a fire was born
burning a heavenly black and blue
And now it’s really up to mortals
how they’d like to be bar-be-cued!
