Rack-Rent
Rent's four times more than just last year;
for a single room that's cold, austere.
Winter winds through vast gaps do blow,
black mold upon the walls does grow.
It's for my baby's health, I fear.
I don't know how I got to here;
the father daily drunk on beer.
To make the landlord's profits grow,
rent's four times more.
Sold by some fancy marketeer,
owned by an unknown financier;
rents due each end of month, and so
sometimes, my morals I forgo;
I have no choice in this, I fear;
rent's four times more.
Copyright © Terry Miller | Year Posted 2023
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