On An Ill-Managed House

LET me thy properties explain: 
A rotten cabin dropping rain: 
Chimneys, with scorn rejecting smoke; 
Stools, tables, chairs, and bedsteads broke. 
Here elements have lost their uses, 
Air ripens not, nor earth produces: 
In vain we make poor Sheelah toil, 
Fire will not roast, nor water boil. 
Through all the valleys, hills, and plains, 
The Goddess Want, in triumph reigns: 
And her chief officers of state, 
Sloth, Dirt, and Theft, around her wait.