Dont Sell Your Heirloom

They’re free to swallow it like bitter pill, All take it as an interposing hill, Already, the four do, as they stand still, At their mum glaring; they could her just kill! “You sell nothing, until I change my mind, Though I doubt if I have change in my mind. Anxious riches the sober casts behind; A grave bond should noble children bind.” She had her kids raised with cash from the mill. If they now fling it away scored bare nil. Youth for the trendy to prized heirloom blind; Faster one continues to wristwatch wind, “Accumulate debts and die with fat bill: You’d better you touched not what gaps fill.” It’s some old voice from a new window sill.