Satan's Pawnshop Poem by Pasquale DiMeola

Enter into my cluttered lair
I see your out of luck
My offers are worthy and fair
For trade of wrinkled buck

All come from country or city
To hock their first timepiece
With bedside manners of pity
They sign upon my lease

For money and a pledging slip
Sweet time is on my side
They grab the dough and meekly quip
'By God I will abide'

So thirty days does come and go
With interest to hang on
Yet we are always in the know
And never will be con

Their valuables become all mine
Everyone will return
With nothing left to sell or bind
All bridges have been burnt

Togetherness leads to friendship
The offers ten per cent
All souls they know who need a slip
Just mention they've been sent

My shop is full of junk and gold
Three balls upon a pole
We gather more than we have sold
My business grows aND GROWS!