You Can’t Keep a House, So Don’t Try

There’s a piece of land
Set out by a fence
And ruled by the law—
A square of knapped grass
And dirt by the side

Of a path—a grant
Those with pens and guns
Said you folks could have,
Could live and build on,
If you could take care

Of it. That’s the way
It goes—that’s the deal
With parts of a world—
You hope for some peace
And a place to keep

Where you’ll play your part
To keep the world neat.
If you fail (and most
Do while a fair share
Don’t) you’ll lose your piece,

And no one will care,
Who kept theirs, who sit
Down to a glass, brush
Out their hair, and part
Ways with you from there.