Old poem

The Itch

When cold, His is the Blanket offered.
When tired, His is the Bed supplied.
When deaf, His is the Voice all heard.
When pained, His is the Sympathy cried.

He lends you His Strength.
He lends you His Wisdom.
He lends you His Wealth.
He lends you His Kingdom.

He speaks the most sweet,
Writes the most kind,
Gives the most gifts,
And spends the most time.

Then when you feel the safest,
And no riches you can't fetch,
He'll call back His loans with interest,
And all you worth He'll catch,
So beware when you make wishes,
And steer clear, Dear Friend,
Of Old Scratch.