A Song
Sitting at His table one day,
God and the devil a game did play;
Hated humanity was at stake;
Well, the first picked Bonaparte;
The other drew, and for his part,
'Twas Mastai that he did take.
Impoverished abbey, thin as a sprite!
Petty prince, small and filled with spite,
Truly a thoughtless brat!
Oh what a worthless pot!
'Twas God that had the losing lot
So the devil won them both at that.
God the Father cried, "Take them you!
You will not know what to do
With them"; the devil laughed; "Good sir-
That's where you're wrong," the devil said,
And of the one a pope he made,
And of the other an emperor.
