When the Devil’s day of destruction dawned,

He arose from his flaming bed,

Washed and polished his long, red tail,

Sharpened the horns upon his head.

Reaching for a bottle of hate,

As he relaxed in his bunny slippers,

He scanned his room for a weapon,

And his eyes fell on the Soul Clippers.

They were getting quite pale and rusty,

With some residue of souls sticking to,

And dull were they without a sparkle,

(He’d have to add some more with glue).

The Devil spared them a second glance

Before he snapped them in threes

He then began to yell and pout,

Screaming curses and profanities.

The curses echoed through the flames,

Which began to growl and hiss,

“Crackle, burn, snap,” they cried,

“Something is dreadfully amiss.”

When they heard the hissing flames,

Black angels opened their dark wings,

Flew into the Devil’s castle,

Flew to their ranting King.

They had not been in for long

When he barked out a command,

“Search the skies, search the oceans,

Find me the most powerful weapon in the land.”

“yes father below!” They all cried

And like a thick dark smoke,

Rose they into the cool night air,

And not a muttering word they spoke.

Instead, each flew to a different place,

Some to the East, others to the West,

A few to the South, a couple to the North,

Each hoping to find the best.

In the light of the moon’s sickly face,

They searched the Ocean’s vented plain,

Looked among the scattered stars,

Searched the mountain’s rocky lane.

Finally each angel with ashen wings,

Sighed and returned to Down Below,

Each clutching something in his hands,

Each hoping his work to show.

They found the ranting Devil

Who calmed as they came by,

He lifted his hands in anticipation,

With a soul as grateful as a lie.

“we searched far and wide, o father!”

They cried of one accord,

“we were sent to get you something special,

the most powerful weapon in the world.”

As the Devil opened his hands to grab,

Words struck him like a shove,

“we didn’t get it father below.”

“WHY NOT?” “it was Love.”