"A fair return," the Builder said,
"Two hundred, say, per cent.,
Is all the profit that I want
On anything I've spent,
Now, if you're ready, Tenants dear,
I'll take the quarter's rent."

"But not from us," the Tenants cried,
"The houses are so new,
They've made us all so very ill
We don't know what to do."
"The County Court," the Builder said,
"Is very near to you."

"I tell you what," the Builder said,
"I fear that I must seize
Your furniture, unless you pay;
So fork out, if you please."
And even he, in that damp air,
Began to cough and sneeze.

"Oh, Tenants," said the Architect,
"Just think what I have done,
Designing such æsthetic homes!"
But answer came there none--
And this was scarcely odd, because
They'd perished every one.

* * * * *