With all due apologies to Joyce Kilmer:

I think that I will never find,
a thing as loathsome as a sign.
A sign that springs up overnight,
where before the scene was clear and bright.

A sign, black letters, screaming yellow
saying “Posted, no trespassing, my dear poor fellow.”
You may have been here all your life,
But I bought this land and now it’s mine.

To do with as I please, though it may cause strife,
I’ll haul you to jail, you’ll pay a big fine,
If you hunt or fish on land that’s MINE.
I own this land and I don’t want you here.

Your heart resides on this land you say?
I don’t care, I still say nay.
To hunting, fishing, berry picking and more,
Hiking, living, loving the shore.

My posted sign is a warning to all,
though your feelings and senses it may appall.
I bought this land, to do with what I might.
So I tell you, “No Trespassing,” It’s my legal right.

And under the law I put an end to a culture
that once was free and decent and kind.
I did this with money, the law of the land,
By the simple expedient of a “No Trespassing” sign.