My Inheritance I inherited the old family farm With the quaint little red barn And sixty acres on which it sits With a creek running through it. The day we happily arrived there Was the start of our nightmare, The attic was filled with ugly bats And the kitchen housed a polecat. There was rat's nest in the sinks And the house was filled with stink. Pigeons roosted in the upper rooms Sharing space with a feisty raccoon. The rickety stairs was nearly down And heaps of trash lay strewn around Where lived creepy crawling critters And little biting things that flittered. The only water was out in the well But it was brown and had a smell. The only lights came from candles And all the doors had no handles. The stained wallpaper hung in shreds And the ceilings sagged overhead, The wooden floor groaned and creaked Each time we carefully placed our feet. I hastily yelled for a family meeting Foremost in our minds was retreating. We voted to move back to the suburb And not one voice of descent was heard. ©Written by: Kenneth J. Ellison 08-10-04 Song title: "Mockingbird Hill" Return   Poetry By Ken Guestbook   Email Ken To send this page to someone