Was it the Night Before Xmas, when all through the house,
Not a creature was stirring, not even a Mortgage Lender.
The stocks and bonds were all burned in the chimney with care,
In hopes that the Fed, The I.R.S. or Bernard Madoff were not there.
The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of bill collectors danced in our heads.
And mamma in her Nordstrom's and I in the GAP,
Had just settled our credit card bills hidden under a cap.
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 Realtor walking on the new fallen snow
Gave the luster of mid-day to foreclosure sign below.
Then what to my wondering eyes should appear,
but a sheriff, his deputies all drawing near.
With my golf clubs and driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment we had to get out quick.
More rapid than Vultures the Auctioneer came,
and he whistled, and shouted, and called buyers by name!
Now 100! now, 200! now 250 no more!
On 255, On 260, 260 and more!
To the top of the porch to the top of the wall
Now get away, get Away, get away all!
So mama and I and the children did leave,
thanks to George Bush's economy and the pink slip in my sleeve.
The future is bright a bank bailout on the horizon,
I leave with my cell phone turned off by Verizon.©
Written by William Staab during the Wall Street Journal Dartboard Contest in December 2008 adapted from the poem Twas the night before Christmas by Clement Moore. No part of this article may be publish or reprinted without the sole consent of the author or this blog/website. Re-posted from original Real Estate Blog: SellYourhouseNewMexico.com
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