Well, we must be going our crowns to win,
So open, St. Peter, and we’ll pass in.”
St. Peter sat quiet and stroked his staff;
But spite of his office he had to laugh;
Then said with a fiery gleam in his eye,
“Who’s tending this gateway—you or I?”
And then he arose in his stature tall,
And pressed a button upon the wall,
And said to the imp who answered the bell,
“Escort this lady around to hell!”