Hangin’ around

Nothin’ to do but frown

The Carpenters–1971

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Three fourths of an acre

A suburban retreat

No hole in the ground

Not a trace of concrete.

 

The weather’s not bad

No rain in the air

Trucks could be digging

But the trucks are not there.

 

Contractors are missing

Got more jobs to do

They can’t spare us the time

We’re just part of the queue.

 

We try to be patient

That’s what we’ve been told

What a pain that will be

When the old house gets sold.

 

If I had a hammer

Some wood and some stone

Then I’d build this house

Construct my own home.

 

Some day it will happen

We will have a new niche

The sooner the better

All this waiting’s a bitch!

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