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.


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

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