A Message for a Vagrant

I’m sorry, sir, vagrant,
But we’ve no room to let
Forgive!
(If you deem it wise)
But mind, kind sir,
That we don’t choose not, but CAN’T
Yes:
We’ve bought barrels
And barrels
Of brine

The salesman came morn, with his brine-tastic offer
Yes!
Pickling, and pickling galore!
At just seven dollars apiece
(Per barrel)
We shant’d give scorn
No! Bought us, did, eighty-three!

Storage came tricky:
Barrels huge, house less so
But cram!
And lug!
‘Til each room barreled be
Yes, each bedroom, parlor and den

Now think of the danger that face each of we:
I, my wife, and the kids
Chance o’ pickling death, big threat already is,
Would worsen
With one vagrant in