Like any year Christmas came much the same way,
but Liz's landlord's heart didn't grow one size that day.
Liz left her apartment, notice in hand,
but before she departed she had a plan.
She taped up some signs warning those who might rent
to be weary of hazards before their money was spent.
The broken TV and oven and chair
the path that's not lit where you easily trip on the stair.
And before she departed she poured down the sink
some two week old milk that had started to stink.
As her final remark to her landlords of past:
Hope your Christmas was Merry, but you can both kiss my ass.