They Don’t Serve Crème Brûlée in Limbo
In heaven, they serve the finest wine
That good souls get when they all dine
On roasted pork or lobster tails
Or meat carved out from great big whales.
They’ve pools and spas and wonders galore
And you’ve time for all forevermore
For once you die, bereft of sins,
Well, that’s when all the fun begins.
You’re woken in heaven by a beautiful song
And a choir of angels will sing right along
Everybody is smiling and happy and gay
You’ll wish you had died on an earlier today.
But then there is hell, where it’s dark all the time
And you’re put there if you have committed a crime
So abhorrent and heinous to both God and man
It wholly corrupts your entire lifespan.
And they don’t have much food in the realm of the devil
And there’s no time for laughter, except when you revel
In watching another soul suffer much pain
For one man’s displeasure is another man’s gain.
But, then, what of limbo? The middle place where
You go if you don’t quite fit in here or there.
You weren’t too good, and you weren’t too bad,
So you’re sent to a realm that looks rather sad.
Every person is gray, all the foliage too,
And there’s naught but sad pests in the Limbo-World Zoo.
You’ll get by on food that’s all right, if not pleasant,
If you’re lucky, you might chew down pieces of pheasant.
But in limbo, no, they don’t serve crème brûlée.
You don’t get any rich food where you are today.
It’s sad and it’s gloomy, and you soon just might tell
That misery in paradise could be worse off than hell.