He climbed a ladder to the sky that morn While thinking of the treasure he would find O'er windswept wisps of clouds and fields of corn Yet only one thought occupied his mind He sought her lurid face and plat'num hair Those ruby lips of red all poised to kiss He felt he knew to look exactly where Excitement burned in him; he couldn't miss Yet when he spotted Heaven's golden gate His feet turned cold as ice inside his shoes He shuddered hard at premonitioned fate And braced himself for disappointing news An angel glanced at him and said, so cruel "Don't seek a harlot here in Heaven, fool." Iambic Pentameter