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Eugene Field - Summer Heat
Work rating: Low

Nay, why discuss this summer heat,
    Of which vain people tell?
  Oh, sinner, rather were it meet
    To fix thy thoughts on hell!

  The punishment ordained for you
    In that infernal spot
  Is het by Satan`s impish crew
    And kept forever hot.

  Sumatra might be reckoned nice,
    And Tophet passing cool,
  And Sodom were a cake of ice
    Beside that sulphur pool.

  An awful stench and dismal wail
    Come from the broiling souls,
  Whilst Satan with his fireproof tail
    Stirs up the brimstone coals.

  Oh, sinner, on this end `tis meet
    That thou shouldst ponder well,
  For what, oh, what, is worldly heat
    Unto the heat of hell?
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