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My Cold Water Flat
I didn't have this; I didn't have that, I lived in Chicago in a cold water flat. The room was small, cramped and dingy The landlord was a thief, fat and stingy. I had a couch, a thread-bare chair, A warped table, a long, wobbly stair. The wallpaper didn't match on the wall. On one side there was none at all. Company dropped in to visit nearly every night. A bit of cheese was not much to feed them right. They were good pals, for that I was glad. Those mice in the walls were the only friends I had. I kept smiling, though things were stretched thin. There wasn't even enough money for a sip of sin. With a chew of tobacco and a slab of meat, things weren't bad. Except for the roof in the rain, I was never sad. How times have changed, life goes much too fast. Makes a body wonder, how much longer can it last? Everyone wants this; everyone wants that. I was happier, back in Chicago, in my cold water flat. |