The poet made a deal with the devil, and in exchange for the poet’s very soul
The devil would give to the poet, all of the poems his pad could hold
The poet became famous and his work withstood the test of time
The devil stole the poet’s soul, for one thousand poems of rhyme
Now the poet lived a grand life, but he was growing old
And the devil had been waiting, now he was growing bold
The poet wanted to back out, of the deal that had been struck
Well the devil came for his payment and the poet was out of luck
The poet begged the devil, pleading for more life and time
The devil just started laughing, saying give me your soul it’s mine