Conduit For Sale!

I’m tryin', I’m tryin'…
Imagine if you will Herr Proctor, alias a nobleman, son of son of scion
scion. Part of his rich inheritance, parcel in generous
forklift beam. Certain plots of land and living quarters deemed by all
gentlemen, and wives thereof, to be grossly humane and frankly, quite
I’m tryin', I’m tryin'…
Herr Proctor, in his enviable good taste, tries quick escape gambit via local
periodicals, but no takers. The land was stationed in a conduit
between two cells, a veritable no-man's-land, [rain, the flophouse, cog-
bone terrors] and carbon monoxide wallpaper. All
boys ask: is it livable?
I’m tryin', I’m tryin'…
Unable to bear the scandal, Ray, philanthropist, rents low-down scab
house in conduit, Herr Proctor offers said land for a song, but no one
wants to sing. In an attempt to maintain social privileges, yet mask it as goodwill, he says to the conduit members, 'Take this rotten old tree and
make it bear fruit. Cheers erupted throughout the settlement. An Italian male was heard to say, between here and there is better than
anything over there!
I’m tryin', I’m tryin'…