The Devil Made Me Do It! Poem by David Lewis Paget

My father said, advising me
On a winter's afternoon,
'If you ever sup with the devil, son,
Then sup with a long spoon.'

'He'll always try to cozen you,
To draw you into his schemes,
Whenever you're down and out, my son
He'll fill your head with dreams.'

'He'll make you feel grandiloquent,
With a power so sublime,
You'll think you're all but immortal, son
As you stray from the bottom line.'

'And slowly, slowly, he will fix
His hooks into your soul,
You'll never notice the hooks, my son
As you head toward your goal.'

'But come the day of reckoning
When your hens come home to roost,
It's - 'Sign on the dotted line…', my son,
Too late then for a truce! '

'So don't you ever sign your name,
That's my advice to you,
That parchment's never the worst of things
The Devil has plans to do.'

'He has a place set up for you
In his deep and dark dominions,
Stoking the fires of hell, my son
With the rest of the Devil's minions.'

* * * * *

Many a year has passed since then,
Time tends us to forget,
I only thought of his words as those
Of some long lost vignette.

But then I started a business up
In a modest little shop,
With fishing tackle and bait, it boomed,
I thought it would never stop.

The profits soared, I built a store
So large, grandiloquent,
My rivals slandered me more and more
In terms quite eloquent.

I saw them off, I bought them out
I started a fishing chain,
Both Lord and Emperor now I felt
Surveying my own domain.

But then a salesman came to call
Who looked at me long and hard,
He shuffled up to the counter, then,
And pulled out his calling card.

'A. Lucifer & Assoc.', it said,
'Fishhooks, Sinkers & Line'.
He reached in his pocket and spilled them out
Hooks large and small, and fine.

'We're far the biggest and best, ' he said,
We cater for every whim…'
But then he stopped as he saw my face
Turn grey, while glaring at him.

'We have accounts, ' he muttered, and then,
'You don't have to pay, old son.
Just sign on the dotted line just here…'
But I'd reached for my Elephant Gun.

I grabbed his collar, I tweaked his nose,
Stuck all those hooks in his pants,
Then dragged him off to the goldfish pool
To watch the Devil recant.

'You're not going to get your hooks in me,
Old Nick, ' I raved at the wall,
But he lay splashing about, neck deep
Right under the waterfall.

'So that, your Honor, is why I'm here,
The police locked me up in a cell,
I was only protecting my soul, m'lud,
From Lucifer's hooks, and Hell.'

'The Devil, he made me do it, m'lud,
Old Beezlebub, there in the court,
I shouldn't be here in the dock today
If the Devil could only be bought.'

'He offered to sell me my freedom, sir,
Just sign, and he wouldn't sue…
I'd rather spend time in a prison cell,
But I guess… that's up to you! '

4 March 2008