MY HOUSE IS ON THE MARKET

Well it was last year, but it isn't now. Due to falling prices we took it off until things settled. Listening to people moaning about Estate Agents, yet again, reminded me of a poem I wrote many years ago. I thought that those of you selling your homes, or thinking of it, may well be able to relate to this. I hope you enjoy it.


MY HOUSE IS ON THE MARKET


My house is on the market
And I feel that I am too
For they ask such personal questions
Why are they all so rude?

I've cleaned and polished, gardened too
Bleach in hand, I've scrubbed the loos
Straightened the curtains and hoovered the carpets,
The table's done, so please don't mark it.

Up and down and in and out
they poke their noses all about
They come they go, as well you know
In all the places not on show.

Now time has passed and the agent's rung,
"I've sold your house" he says
He seems very pleased but can't understand
Why I am seeing red.

For he only wants his commission,
it really isn't fair,
He' reduced my house down more and more
And doesn't seem to care

It's very strange how things have changed
All in the space of a day
To sell I was told, "prices are low"
But as a buyer "they've all shot higher"

Now another home I need to buy
Doing it his way I can't afford
So I'll stay where I am, or do it myself
And give him back his board.