This Harry’s car was big and posh

Quite obvious he had some dosh

His house was large with many rooms

And many walls, so one assumes

Upon these walls stood many frames

With famous things by famous names


For many years our Harry went

Around the world. His money spent….

….on masterpieces – works of art

Such paintings that would look the part

Hanging round his lovely place

Nicely filling every space


He thought them investments, assets

He had allsorts like Bertie Bassett

Manets Michaelangelos

Rembrants Van Goghs Picassos

Beautifying his mansion home

Shame that Harry lived alone

Even sadder was the saddest news

One day Harry joined the queues

Of people going up to heaven

‘Cos whilst holidaying in Devon….

….he choked upon a piece of nougat

And immediately he kicked the bucket


No more art galleries for Harry

No more Renoirs for him to carry

Just a long eternity stretching out

Into the distance, there’s no doubt….

….his faith had given him a hope

And saved him from the slippery slope


The pearly gates before him stood

Where all the wise and great and good….

….have entered. Now t’was Harry’s turn

St Peter looked – his eyes did burn

‘Can’t come in here, go do one mate

No way you’re comin’ through this gate’


Harry couldn’t believe his ears

Began fighting back the tears

‘Please check your list, I must be there

This is God’s house it’s mine to share’

St Peter banged his clipboard loud

‘I’ll tell you why you’re not allowed


Do you think I was born yesterday

Call me naïve but hear me say

That shopping trolley that you pull

I notice it’s completely full….

….of paintings which you bought on earth

How many millions are they worth ?


We have strict rules on what folks bring

I’m afraid you can pack – well, nothing

If I let you in, I know for starters

My boss would have my guts for garters

So you ain’t comin’ through this gate

So off you go, and do one mate’


Peter’s words were hammer blows

Changed his happiness to woes

‘Please let me bring in one or two

A Gauguin and Van Dyck will do

Forever they will beautify

My new mansion in the sky


God knows that I am not a crook

He’ll come and have a butcher’s hook

He’ll be so glad I take a pride

In where I live. He will decide….

So please Sir

St Peter’s fuse was getting short


© 2015 John Sterry