When I go to hell, I’ll hope it’s wintery cold
It’s usually hot there, so I’ve been told
When hell freezes over, I’ll try to arrive
For I prefer freezing to burning alive
I hope old devil Satan accommodates me
With tenderized steaks and flasks of Chablis
Desert of ice-cream, butter pecan
A very firm mattress to sleep and dream on
If this can’t be arranged, I’ll refuse to stay
No sense in staying if I can’t live my way
Back to earth I’ll come for forever and then
My hellish days on Earth will start over again
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem