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.


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