For Sale

One hay-wire sawmill, nice new location,
Ten-mile haul to the shipping station.
Half-mile of plank road, rest of it mud,
Six bridges all condemned, but otherwise good.
Timber—yellow pine, very few knots,
Awfully sound between rotten spots.
Fire box, boiler, flues leak some,
Injector patched with chewin' gum.
Darn good whistle and carriage track,
Nine feet left of old smoke stack,
Belt's a little ragged, rats ate the laces,
Head-saw is cracked in a couple of places.
The engine knocks and is loose on its base,
And the fly wheel's broke in just one place.
There's a pile of side lumber and a few cull ties,
And they've been attached by some creditor guys.
There's a mortgage on the land
That's now past due,
And I still owe for the machinery, too.
But if you want to get rich,
Here's the place to begin,
For it's a darn good layout
For the shape it's in.
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