They Don't Make 'em Like That Any More

by Lee A. Hart

I bought me a house, I'm proud as can be.
It's sixty years old, but it's new to me.
I felt like the happiest guy in the land,
Until the front doorknob came off in my hand. But try as I might, I couldn't use it.
The size was all wrong, it just wouldn't fit.
I fiddled and whittled; I screwed and I swore,
But finally concluded I'd need a new door. Back home I went with a handsome new door.
But had the same problem I had before.
It just wouldn't fit in my old door frame.
So it's gotta change; I'm tired of this game. As I was mounting my lovely new frame,
The building inspector entered the game.
He said, "That isn't allowed, don't you know?
It's not up to code; that wall's got to go." The rest of the year it's the same old song.
Whatever I fixed, something else would go wrong.
Plumbers and carpenters invaded my home,
Until there was nothing that they'd left alone. At last it was finished, there's no more to do.
It cost me a fortune; but everything's new.
I felt like the happiest guy in the land,
Until the new doorknob came off in my hand. --------

This was inspired by my frequent attempts to fix things that most people throw away. I hate to discard something just because one simple little part breaks. But we're restructuring the world so you can't GET that stinking little part! Now where am I supposed to get a 3.14159" long M5 screw with a Whitworth thread and Torx TR head?

A poem by Lee A. Hart, © 1984-2021 by Lee A. Hart. Created 3/6/2019. Last updated 9/1/2021.
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