Old Scratch had a taste for the sweetly sick souls

Sitting at the crossroads never growing old

Ever looking fine in his unrelieved black

Moonlight gleaming mean on his onyx black hat

His silver tipped cane marking time in the dark

Heels walked a circle in the shadow filled park

One hour, two hours, three hours passed

Unwilling and unwitting rushing cautiously past

Mr. Mercury came near with a bourbon and cigar

Old Scratch took his blood in a wax sealed jar

He lifted out a bag of smooth black silk

On supplicants knees Mr. Mercury knelt

And on his tongue was laid that defiled host

Scratch walked away with Mr. Mercury’s soul

One year, two years, three years passed

Mr. Mercurys’ fear abated at last

No longer checking shadows at the juncture of roads

He reveled in the life for which he’d traded his soul

Four years, five years, six years passed

Seven, eight, and nine too fast

Ten years passed that crossroads night

Old Scratch came a callin in the stark moonlight

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