The Slumlord Of Vanier

I want your money,

I don’t care about your rights,

I don’t care about your boundaries,

I don’t care about your comfort.

When I look at you,
All I see is a big fat dollar sign,

And absolutely nothing else,

You were never even human to me.

Cracked ceilings, dirty walls, moldy ceilings,

I shall hide these things from you,

Until you sign on the dotted line,

You poor bastard ( or bitch, as the case may be )

Newcomers to Canada know so little about the country,

They are so polite, friendly and naïve,

Like pigeons ripe for the plucking,

And pluck them I do.

I don’t make repairs,

I don’t care if you are too cold,

I don’t care if you are too hot,

I don’t care if your toilet is clogged.

When I feel like it,

I will drop by unannounced,

Popping at your door,

Ambushing you into a talk you’re not ready for.

Thank you for making me rich,

Thank you for putting my son/daughter through college,

When I feel like it,

I will toss you out, superficially renovate the place,

And then I will find another sucker.

The tenant board is a joke,

No one ever holds me accountable,

I do what I want,

And you pay me to mistreat you,

I am the Slumlord.

In Vanier, Ontario, I own you.