Classic Poem

The devil was given permission one day
To select him a land for his special sway,
So he hunted around for a month or more
And fussed and fumed and terribly swore;
But at last was delighted a country to view,
Where the prickly pear and the mesquite grew.
With a survey brief, without further excuse,
He took his stand near the Santa Cruz.

He saw there was some improvement to make,
For he felt his own reputation at stake.
An idea struck him, and he swore by his horns
To make a complete vegetation of thorns.
He studded the land with the prickly pear,
And scattered the cactus everywhere;
The Spanish dagger, sharp-pointed and tall,
And last the cholla—the worst of all.

He imported the Apaches direct from hell,
And, the ranks of the sweet-scented train to swell,
A legion of skunks, whose loud, loud smell
Perfumed the country he loved so well.
And then for his life he could not see why
The river should any more water supply;
And he swore if he gave it another drop
You might take his head and horns for a mop.

He filled the river with sand till 'twas almost dry,
And poisoned the land with alkali;
And promised himself on its slimy brink
The control of all who from it should drink.
He saw there was one more improvement to make—
He imported the tarantula and rattlesnake,
That all who might come to this country to dwell
Would be sure to think it was almost hell.

He fixed the heat at one hundred and seven,
And banished forever the dew from heaven;
But remarked as he heard his furnace roar,
That the heat might reach five hundred or more.
And after he had fixed things so thorny and well,
He said, “I'll be d—d if this don't beat hell!”
Then he flopped his wings and away he flew,
And vanished from earth in a blaze of blue.

And now, no doubt, in some corner of hell
He gloats o'er the work he has done so well,
And vows that Arizona cannot be beat
For scorpions, tarantulas, snakes and heat;
For with his own realm it compares so well
He feels assured it surpasses hell.