This is a fun poem I found on the internet. For all of you home sellers, I hope you enjoy!
TWAS THE NIGHT BEFORE YOUR HOME WOULD SELL
T’was Night Before Your Home would sell,
when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring,
not even a mouse;
The hopes of a sale were hung
in our hearts with care,
In hopes that our Realtor
soon would be there;
The children were nestled
all snug in their beds,
While visions of Real Estate
danced in their heads;
And mamma in her ‘kerchief,
and I in my cap,
Had just settled down
for a long winter’s nap,
When out on the lawn
there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed
to see what was the matter.
Away to the window
I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters
and threw up the sash.
The moon on the breast
of the new-fallen snow
Gave the lustre of mid-day
to objects below,
When, what to my wondering eyes
should appear,
But a miniature Realtor,
and eight RREA Agents,
With a perky little driver,
so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment
it must be Elizabeth.
More rapid than eagles
her coursers they came,
As she whistled, and shouted,
and called them by name;
“Now, Shannon! now, Matt!
now, Ginger and Meredith!
On, Carlos! on Marta!
on, Cindy and Peter!
To the top of the porch!
to the top of the wall!
Now dash away! dash away!
dash away all!”
As dry leaves that before
the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle,
mount to the sky,
So up to the house-top
the agents they flew,
With the sleigh full of Realtors,
and Miss Elizabeth too.
And then, in a twinkling,
I heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing
of each of the Agents.
As I drew in my hand,
and was turning around,
Down the chimney
She came with a bound.
She was dressed all in fur,
from her head to her foot,
And her clothes were all tarnished
with ashes and soot;
A bundle of offers
all crumpled in her hand,
And looked like a realtor
with an offer in hand.
Her eyes — how they twinkled!
Her dimples how merry!
Hers cheeks were like roses,
Her nose like a cherry!
Her cute little mouth
was drawn up like a bow,
and the smile on her face
was as bright as the snow;
The stump of a pencil
she held tight in her teeth,
And the strokes it encircled
was a contract in hand;
She had a broad smile
and a beam in her eye,
That sparkled, when she laughed
like a bowlful of glitter.
She was jolly and sure,
a right happy Realtor,
And I laughed when I saw her,
in spite of myself;
A wink of her eye
and a twist of her head,
Soon gave me to know
I had nothing to dread;
She spoke not a word,
but went straight to her work,
And filled all the papers;
then turned with a jerk,
And laying her pencil
aside of the table,
And giving a nod,
up the chimney she rose;
She sprang to her sleigh,
to her team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew
like the down of a thistle.
But I heard her exclaim,
As she drove out of sight,
“Your house is now sold,
relax and delight!”
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