The Business Agent's Dream
A man knocked at the heavenly gate, his face was scarred and old;
He stood before the man of fate, for admission to the fold.
“What have you done,” St. Peter asked. “To gain admission here?”
“I've been a union business agent, sire,” he said. “For many and many a year.”
The pearly gates swung open wide; St. Peter touched the bell.
“Come in and choose your harp,” St. Peter said. “You've had your share of hell!”