Note: This little poem is one of the first things I wrote that I liked–I wrote it in high school. At that time I was deeply influenced by limericks (both dirty and clean) and nonsense poetry like Edward Lear. I still love nonsense poetry. Like anything good, I have no idea where this kind of content come from.
Jerome:
In a glade near his home
Roamed a boy called Jerome
When he met with the sight of the devil
Who asked for his soul
In a Tupperware bowl
In a voice smug and typically level
Though of manner quite mild
The cunning wee child
Prepared a surprise for the devil
Who felt sorely deceived
When the soul he received
Belonged to the neighbor’s boy, Nevil