The Molly Mcguires

on twelvth avenue

it was a rising damp

with an alley for a view

A skin of peeling paint

and an attic full of mice

to turn the shower on

you had to flush the toilet twice

At night it creaked and groaned

and swayed in the wind

the bugs were drunk on mold

and the cockroaches grinned

With an alley full of cats

rutting through the night

and a front yard full of rats

but it was home to us despite

knocking on the door

the old landlord came

rotten to the core

knocking on the door

the first of the month

always wanting more

If we knew when we moved in

what only lay ahead

saying home sweet home

would be be better left unsaid

cracks in the ceiling

whiskey stains on the floor

the ghosts of all of those

who had lived there before

pigeons messed the roof

and it leaked when it rained

if something ever broke

the landlord never came

and to call him a bastard

would be a compliment

we'd only hear from him

when he came to raise the rent

and when we'd had enough

we backed a truck on the lawn

we loaded up the half-ton

and by midnight we were gone

and when the landlord came

for his money once again

all he heard was an echo

and never again