Don’t Bite the Hand that Feeds


The grass grows thick and the weeds sprout taller
“I want the lawn cut!” the landlady hollered.
When things were pretty, we did all we could,
She always commented about her soil being good.
It’s not just the soil that makes a garden grow,
The farmer that toils it, nursing each planted row.
She won’t give credit where credit is due,
She only sees dollar signs, such a shame, but true.
We treated this place as if it were our own
Now that we’re leaving she wants to pick a bone,
Take care of this, and get rid of all that,
She’s forgotten all about her own hazmat.
We’ll do all we can to leave the place nice,
It won’t be infested with roaches and mice
When we first moved in, this place was a joke,
General maintenance and upkeep made us broke

The hedges needed trimming and some creative cuts
Grass needed watering, and filled in the ruts
Paint on the house was chipping and flaked
Tons of pine straw needed to be raked.
The roof had a leak and screen door broke
The back porch in shambles this is no joke
“I’m quick with a fix,” he said with a drawl.
My man did it all; not just handsome, but tall
The hedges were trimmed up in unique fashion
Lawn mowed, watered, flourishing green with passion
Scrapped, taped and painted in just a few days
Replaced the roof metal without delays
Over and over we tried to buy this place
Didn’t want to sell it, she smooth-talked with grace
“Stay as long as you want, I won’t raise the rent,”
That was before her money was all spent.


With all the upgrades and hard work we‘ve done
Town took notice and higher taxes have begun.
She said the increase is only due to insurance,
This and our opportunities are a happy confluence
What she doesn’t understand is we are not deceived
Insurance doesn’t benefit us, as she’d have us believe
Adventures await us, over the road in a truck
She’ll take advantage of the next innocent shmuck.


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