A Poor Place to Be [Lyric Poem]

A turned field on a cloudy day.
 A clapboard shack, with threat of rain.

Oh, it's so dark and gloomy -
 a rickety roost, not so roomy.

Staring out the window, wondering:
 was that sound grumble or thundering?

Grumble of stomach, thunder of sky?
 And I can't see out this bad eye. 

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