97. On An Ill-Managed House

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.