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2009-11-25 18:42:09

Night Before Christmas Revisited

 

THE NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS
 
                         Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the land,
                                  Not a buyer was stirring, not woman nor man.
                           The signs were all hung in the yards with great care,
                                   In hopes that the buyers soon would be there.
 
                              The sellers were all nestled all snug in their homes,
                               While visions of foreclosure danced in their heads.
                                 And Mama in her kerchief, and Dad in his cap,
                                 Had just settled down for several stiff night caps.
 
                                  When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
                      That the seller sprang from his sofa to see what was the matter.
                                       Away to the window he stumbled in a flash,
                                  Tore open the shutters and threw up on the sash.
                                      
                                  The moon on the breast of the overgrown lawn,
                            Gave the luster of midday to all the for sale signs below.
                                  When what to his blood shot eyes should appear,
                                         But a large black SUV with a buyer in there.
 
                                         With a little old Realtor so lively and quick,
                                          He knew in a moment it must be a trick.
                           More rapid than eagles, the buyer’s questions they came,
                  And he whistled and shouted, I want this short sale he proclaimed.
 
                              Now buyer! Now seller! Now Realtor and Broker!
                                 On lender, On title! On appraiser and Banker!
                           Please Realtor and Banker, let the buyer pay for it all!
 
                                          As the offers from the last foreclosure fly,
                                  When they met with an obstacle mount to the sky.
                                        So on to the office the coursers they flew.
                                     With an SUV full of buyers and a Realtor too.
 
                               And then in a twinkling, the seller heard on the roof,
                        The mumbling and grumbling of the inspectors little hoof.
                       As the seller listen to the sounds, and was turning around,
                                   In the door came the appraiser with a bound.
 
                             He was dressed all in black from his head to his foot,
                          And his cloths were all wrinkled and full of dirt and soot.
                                   A pack full of comps, he had stuffed in a sack,
                              And he looked light a peddler just opening his pack.
 
                                 His eyes how they crinkle! His dimples how dreary!
                          His cheeks were quite sunken, his expression quite weary.
                                  His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
                           And the little hair on his head was as white as the snow.
 
                                  The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
                               And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath.
                                  He had a fat old face and a large beer belly,
                             That shook when he laughed like a bowl full of jelly!
 
                                  He was chubby and plump, but a right jolly old elf,
                     And the seller almost cried when he saw him in spite of himself!
                                      A wink of his eye and a nod of his head,
                            Soon let the seller know that he had nothing to dread.
 
                             He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
                               Then filled out his forms, and then turned with a jerk.
                                        And laying his finger aside of his nose,
                                   And giving a nod, down the path did he go.
 
                           He sprang to his pickup; to his dog he gave a whistle,
                               And away they did drive like the down of a thistle.
                          But the seller heard him exclaim, as he drove out of sight.
                               Your appraisal came in; the closing will be all right.
 
                               So Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!”
 
 
 
 

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