Classic Poem

Little old shack,
All tar-papered black,
Your chimney leans back
From the north wind.
Your windows are few,
Your rooms only two,
But yet to my view
You're a mansion.

Little old shack,
There's lots that you lack,
Yet still you've the knack
To look home-like.
My hands builded you,
The wife helped me, too;
I guess you will do
For our mansion.