Other people's poetry: "Tomlinson"

This is a longish story in fourteener couplets by Kipling, who loved to do this sort of thing. Tomlinson dies and goes to heaven, and is unable to come up with a reason they should let him in, other than people he knew and books he read. They say no, so he goes to the other place, and has exactly the same problem: he can't come up with any good reason that he should go to hell either. So because he's too wishy-washy to go to either place, he wakes up alive after all.

(For those who like poetic form and don't know of fourteeners already: they consist of seven iambs. They are particularly interesting because they are exactly equivalent to the common metre, just laid out differently. So:

Then Tomlinson he gripped the bars and yammered, "Let me in—
"For I mind that I borrowed my neighbour's wife to sin the deadly sin."

could equally be written as a ballad stanza:

Then Tomlinson he gripped the bars
And yammered, "Let me in—
"For I mind that I borrowed my neighbour's wife
To sin the deadly sin.")

( Do ye think I would waste my good pit-coal on the hide of a brain-sick fool?  )