The Insurance Girl
A girl knocked at the heavenly gates,
Her face was tired and old.
She stood before the man of fate
For admission to the fold.
"What have you done," St. Peter asked,
"To gain admission here?"
"I've been an insurance girl," she said,
"For many and many a year."
The Pearly gates swung open wide,
St. Peter rang the bell.
"Come in and choose your harp, dear girl,
You've had your share of hell." |