I bought my house: America.
Moved in and started the mortgage.
Painted walls, paid for lines.
Slowly replaced appliances.

Just loved the location, peace and quiet.
Was hard work beating the occupants out:
squatters on the land not paying a bank a dime.
Once the demand was there, a steep bank sent
them down river. It worked out, having them
in my home until I just happened by.

They kept the place immaculately,
fresh air and clean carpet.
I can forget about that stuff for years.
I can’t call it luck, though.
I’d been looking for a place for years.

I’m just privileged to have a fiercely painstaking agency.