To Mine Tenant

My patience, worn; thin to the bone,
As reverence holds a sorry tone.
Please heed some rules I wish to hone,
And let not slip a single groan.
It is my house in which you lodge.
These accusations thou canst not dodge.
And if I hearest thou speak, "Hodgepodge,"
Thou wilst rest feet 'neath my garage.

Racketing 'til ten to two!        
  RousE thee I wilst you sorry fool!
Where thou Spitst, thou carest little.
 Couldst fill a Pot with thy spittle.
      Thy manners at Eating want much.
  As for mine own meal, I Can't touch!
 And wait I to receive a cenT!

There is but one thing I expect.
Deep down thou knowest I suspect.
But if thou dost not know'th the word,
A lie I find at least absurd,
Then thou shouldst searcheth high to low.
The answer thou wilst com'th to know.