A rose and carnation went out to play
just minutes before the judgment day.

They’d made all arrangements moments before
so as to ensure their glory was more.

Out frolicking thoughtless the rose and her thorns
to carnation did sing who blew on his horns.

But as the round world is perfectly rough
and striding sans falter is perfectly tough.

The intrepid carnation did tumble into
his enamored companion who impaled him through.

It seems on a thorn is where he there fell,
and while he went’o heaven, his rose went’o hell.

For the righteous the garden has welcoming thighs
while in the inferno the wrongdoer cries,

and in spite of St. Peter’s irrelevant nod
the irrational judgment is left up to God.