The Story of the Whore and The Devil

The Story of the Whore and The Devil

Today I found a tale of the Devil’s epic fail
to torture newlyweds who peeved him so
They had somehow found a way to avoid to ever say
a harsh word to scar the other’s soul

So the Devil sought and found, for breaking couples down;
to ruin their respect and wreck their lives
And for bringing to their knees, true love’s make believe
a whore who he knew loved deceiving wives

So the Devil offered shoes — red, shiny and brand new
in exchange for a simple favor he would ask
“I’d like you to plant the seeds of resentment, if you please
and you’ll get red stilettos for this task”

Well the whore quickly obliged and she set out to disguise
herself as a reader of the palms
And she set up her deceit on the corner of the street
where the bride was known to stroll and hum the Psalms

Now it took an act of cunning, but the whore’s resolve was stunning
and she finally got a moment with the bride
So the whore inquired of her how she felt about her lover
and the newlywed began to boast in pride

She claimed that they were meant to be, and through their love the world would see
a sampling of soulmates in the flesh
Well the whore did offer sage advice; a recipe for longer life
of lovers who were better than the rest

“While your prince is peaceful sleeping, don’t let him hear you creeping
but cut 3 cords of long hairs from his chin
And before the rooster crows, into a flame, the locks you’ll throw
and the spell will bind you evermore to him”

Well the bride politely grinned, gathered her purse, and then
with a token and a turn she walked away
And when she was down the street, the whore folded up the sheets
from her table, and considered her next play

She found him working in a field, where the harvest soon would yield
so the harlot set her rhythm to his stride
And after just a while, with a pleasant, peasant’s smile
she found herself precisely by his side

She made notice of his ring, and she started then to sing
the Psalms she knew he’d just heard from his bride
When he paused to take it in, and he gave a knowing grin
she was certain he was willing to confide

So she struck up conversation, inquiring of his station
in the ranks of married men among his peers
“I’m as lucky as it gets - a groom with no regrets
my perfect wife will keep me all my years”

At the mention of his bliss, the whore chuckled with a hiss
and warned him, he should never be so sure
“For there’s nothing I know better, but that brides change with the weather
so sleep with one eye on your blade ‘till there’s a cure”

Well the whore went on to say that many men have died that way
by letting down their guard to their new wife
If this evening she was willing to execute the killing
he would find his throat serrated by her knife

The groom then did excuse his presence from the ruse
and set out to complete his daily chore
And walking from the row where his hope was tested so
he reminded himself, “never trust a whore”

So that evening after dinner, with the fire growing dimmer
the groom laid down to rest his weary eyes
But oh, try as he might, he could not forget the sight
of that whore and her so evil, twisted lies

So with heaviness of mind, he tried to pass the time
lying motionless on his back in the bed
When the bride slipped on her gown, and finally laid down
she found herself trapped too, in her own head

So after hours passed, the bride quietly asked
if her husband was asleep there on his back
When he didn’t make a sound, she sneaked across the ground
and pulled a razor from her groom’s grooming sack

And as she slowly approached, and was reaching for his throat
her husband’s heart was pounding in his chest
All his fears and disbelief were compounded by the grief
of his bride. He wondered, “who would she kill next?”

With just inches left to spare, before she could reach the hair
he sat up, and grabbed the blade out of her hands
And with the wrath of demons, he determined to get even
so this woman had her throat cut by her man

As the groom looked from above his choking, dying love
in the moonlight, through the window he did see
That whore and her black eyes, staring in through her disguise
and he knew he had been cleverly deceived

So he turned the bloody knife and he took his worthless life
and fell dead atop his true and only love
While the whore, remaining calm, through the midnight, humming Psalms
sought out the Devil to collect the payment of…

“2 bright red, tall stilettos; my successful business fellow”
at the alley where the Devil said to meet
But the Devil wasn’t there. Just a letter, and the pair
of whorish heels in the middle of the street

“I want nothing more to do with the likes of one like you”
read the letter in an ink of crimson red
“For you are far more sinister than Hell’s almighty minister”
signed, the Devil.

“PS. I’ll see you when you’re dead.”