i saw him once at age of four
he bade me wine to drink galore
and then again at five years old
to scribe my name in figures bold
black upon the outside bench
got spanked for that 'n left a stench
then if my memory serves me right
at age of nine on eraser white
uncomplimentary homage to my teacher
to write he bade whereupon appeacher
swift to headmaster sent me in fury
but too afraid of one-man jury
he bade me fabricate pathetic tale
of his absence when i went to jail

lies and deceit [seemed to] have coloured my years
for now in sweetest memory appears
marking of my own homework
in red paint while I duties shirk.
thus, in twilight as old i grow
i'm frightened of my grey shadow
the falsehood has become my own
part of flesh and part of bone
can i correct this wayward soul
and fly towards the divine goal?
methinks must use mercurial self
warts 'n all, angel and elf,
in ad hoc program to do good deed
and so transform this wayward steed

and comfort take in this small truth
that memory is a no-good sleuth
takes delight in remembering bad
but scarce commemorates good times had
so yes, sweet devil, you've been here,
i've done your bidding since toddler year
but higher angel i've followed you too
galumphing on in ways few knew
G-d alone will weigh the scales
for He sees the whole with all details