LET me thy properties explain:
A rotten cabin dropping rain:
Chimneys, with scorn rejecting smoke;
Stools, tables, chairs, and bedsteads broke.
Here elements have lost their uses,
Air ripens not, nor earth produces:
In vain we make poor Sheelah toil,
Fire will not roast, nor water boil.
Through all the valleys, hills, and plains,
The Goddess Want, in triumph reigns:
And her chief officers of state,
Sloth, Dirt, and Theft, around her wait.
“On An Ill-Managed House” By Jonathan Swift
Reminds me of the old tune, “Arkansas Traveler” about the man fiddling while his roof leaked.
When told to fix it on a nicer day, the man says, “You’re really quite a pain. My roof don’t leak when it doesn’t rain!”