The Real Estate Salesperson

They stood before the Pearly Gates,

Their faces were scarred and old.

They stood before the man of fate,

For admission to the fold.

What have you done? St Peter asked,

To gain admission here?

We’ve been real estate agents, sir,

For many and many a year.

The Pearly Gates swung open wide;

St. Peter touched the bell.

Come in and choose your harp, my friends,

You’ve had your share of hell.

Just choose a soft and snowy cloud,

Or sit by the beautiful shore.

There are no negative associates here,

And you never have the floor.

The Discount only brokers

Are absolutely nil,

And for lenders, DRE and NAR,

I know you’ve had your fill.

There are no money problems,

Your car and clothes are always new.

Appraisals are always friendly

Square footage always true.

So if you wish, St. Peter said,

Sleep until noon or more.

No one will ever come knocking

Or rapping on your door.

There are no schedules or appointments

No boring webinars to bear

There are no bitchy clients here—

We sent them, you know where

Best Wishes, Duane Gomer

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