In the same tradition of "The Devil and Daniel Webster", this bit of doggeral is about the Devil and is written in corny mountain dialect.

I wrote it with my old friend Walt. The second stanza came first, just something I threw off. Then I invited Walt to pick it up and carry the pome a little further. He added three or four stanzas. I added a couple more next, and tinkered with his. He tinkered a little more, and I added a final line that he slipped into the final stanza. Then some more tinkering. I think we're done... finally. But Walt is looking at it one last time, so you never know.

Walt is my old editor, from the days when I worked as an illustrator for a west coast magazines. I also sold them a couple of articles. Walt still edits my writing, less for fun, I suppose, than because he can't stand where I put my punctuation.