Clancy was delighted and he fetched himself a chopper;
This was the end of Lucifer, he sure would come a cropper.

No more the rotten rascal would roam where shadows lurk,
To terrorise the lives of men and do his evil work!
As Clancy raised the hatchet he heard the divvle plead:
"Just set me free and you will be very rich indeed.

I'll never bother you again, 'tis gospel truth I speak,
And I promise on my oath to pay you fifty pounds a week."
This very handsome offer made Clancy stop to think:
Just fancy having fifty quid to spend each week on drink!

The offer seemed too good to miss so, like a silly goat,
He opened up the little purse and removed the ten-bob note.
Again there was a blinding flash as Satan changed once more,
Into the divvle that he was and gave a mighty roar.
  "Ha! Ha!" said he, "That was, my boy, a most ingenious trick;
It takes a crafty fox indeed to out-manoeuvre Nick.
But now that I'm in charge again you'll have to come with me;
I only used the offer as a means of getting free."

Clancy pleaded with him but all to no avail,
Then suddenly he realised Nick hadn't got a tail.
He had got one when he came in but now where it had been,
A little stump upon his rump was all that could be seen.

Now Clancy got to thinkin' like a mathematics scholar,
And figgered out that in the purse must still be half-a-dollar;
For Satan changed so quickly that the ten-bob note was all
That had been extricated before he let it fall.

When Satan came to realise his swisher wasn't there,
His look of jubilation changed into despair.
He tried to grab the little purse but, to his great dismay,
He couldn't get within a yard of where that leather lay.
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