With so great a wealth
He just couldn’t die.
No one can bribe God
But he wanted to try.

He’d heard of people
Making deals with the Devil,
So why not deal
On a much higher level?

He knew he was old
He was in bad health.
He had to decide
What to do with his wealth.

Now we haven’t time
For every detail
But he had a plan
He was able to sell.

Now everyone thinks
That it’s just a rumor
But it seems our God
Has a sense of humor.

He told the old man
In a godly voice
“Now this the deal
You’ve got no choice”.

Bring just what you
Can put in a crate
Not any bigger
Than four by eight.

Leftover money
You’ll give to the poor
And you’ll not have time
To make any more.

Now our billionaire
With his usual tricks
Used all of his money
And he bought gold bricks.

They fit real nice
In a wooden crate
That measured exactly
Just four by eight.

It wasn’t too long
‘Til he met his fate
And saw Saint Peter
At the heavenly gate.

Saint Peter said
“It’s strange, I must say,
A package just came
For you yesterday.”

“Well open it up”,
He said rather loud,
Intending I’m sure
To draw a large crowd.

God watched from his throne
With a godly smile,
Saint Peter exclaimed,
“It’s road paving tile!”

I’m sure that God looks at our concept of wealth as something pretty pathetic. Descriptions of the splendors of heaven are written in terms that we as humans can only try to comprehend. Trying to describe New York City to an aborigine who has never left the outback would probably be simple as compared to describing heaven to modern man.

The billionaire in Storing up Treasures must surely have been disappointed to discover that he had taken sand to the beach. The moral of the story is obvious, so I won’t insult your intelligence by writing it.