A poem dedicated to the buyer of a home

For several months now, I've been ranting and raving about so many things that go wrong within the property industry. Government's inability (at every level) to deliver; buyers and sellers being ripped off; individuals being cheated by organisations such as the NHBRC; banks who just take more and more of your money and so on and so forth. So today I thought I'd do something different:

My sub, Eugene, he said to me:"You take things much too seriously."So for this column I've tried to sneakA smile from his lips for a whole week

My story starts in a simple wayGo out and buy a house todayPrices are so idiotically lowThat buying's now is the way to go

Agents are the eager crewWho'll sell you something, old or new."What about the money, I need some cash?""You'll get a bond," they say unabashed

You'll get the loot from any bankIt's just the agent you'll have to thankAnd once you've moved your stuff insideYou'll be so happy, filled with pride

So off you go one Sunday morningPast agent's boards on sidewalks swarmingCertain that today's you'll findA dream house that you've had in mind

Up and down the street you goLooking for the house on showYour Garmen guides you everywhereBut now a carwash's standing there

You say there must be some mistakeAs the Garmen you're about to breakYour grumpy wife, her wit superbTells you you're in the wrong suburb

So off you go house hunting againWith a wife to drive you half-insaneShe navigating on your behalfBecause she says that Garmen's daft

Agents boards are everywhere,So you slow down to stop and stareWhen suddenly from way behindA squeal of breaks and a bumping grind

Hazards on and out you getAnd there's a madman you've just metHe's bashed your car, it's just a bumpAnd he's about to give you an almighty thump

You pacify him, try to explainThat you're house hunting yet again He's sees the damage, it's minuteSo agrees that he'll accept some loot

You take his details, promise to payAnd tell him you'll transfer todayAbout two grand to cover the costHoping your offer'll make him get lost

Off you drive, shaking with rageMore money gone, and stuck in a cageWith a wife who has one thing in mindThat dream house that she wants to find

Eventually you find the spot,Park the car and off you trotWhere an agent with an evil eyeMake's sure today's the day you'll buy

She and the wife, they start to natterAnd you wish they'd end that ceaseless chatterAll you want to really do Is see if this's the house for you

The lounge is wide, and dark, but cleanThe twittering birds make the place sereneThe kitchen vinyl floor is oldBut the pantry's seems sedately cold

The dining room is large and quaintand the walls will need a lick of paintBecause the colour's a faded yellowNot a place that you'd call mellow

The agent has now left your wifeAnd wants to know about your lifeWhat you do and what you earnFrom that of course she can discern

If you will buy for cash or needA bond to finally do the deedShe hopes her questions are discreetAs she pries for answers, her voice so sweet

Slowly you climb the creaking stairsTo a TV room with antique chairsWhere a plasma TV metres wideDominates the view inside

Outside the oak tree's casting shadeAcross the fence that's palisadeWhere a pool the size of a tennis courtIs sparkling green, not what you sought

Four airy bedrooms with wooden floorsEven wooden windows, wooden doorsYou start to wonder, you're sure you're rightThe wood's gone rotten from termites

The busy agent follows everywhereTelling you that with loving careThis 40-year-old palatial houseIs the place for you and your spouse

She also tells you about a desperate sellerWho really is such a very nice fellow"But his money's running out you knowAnd as a pensioner it cannot grow"

She tells you how after sixty yearsHis ailing wife fell down the stairsBroke her hip was hospitalisedGot pneumonia and sadly died

This story's just another ploySo you'll make an offer you can't destroyShe tells you you'll get a bargain priceBecause the seller's very nice

Of course what she omits to sayIs how much money you'd have to payTo fix the windows, repair the floorsCut down the trees and plant the lawns

Your wife, of course, says the house's charmingAnd with a bit of care it'll be heart warmingOf course there's one thing that she forgotThe roof's still leaking and the wiring's shot

Alright, you say, let's hear the price,Perhaps this house is really niceThe agent smiles, offers you a seatAt a table that's been carved from teak

You sit down and wait to hearWhat figure she'll pluck from the airMaybe one point eight or even twoThat's what you think she'll be telling you

But not a chance, you silly sucker,Not with an agent who's eyelids flutterShe's got another price in mind, Three million nine hundred and ninety nine

Your eyes go cold, your jaw is set,She's taking a chance you're willing to bet.You stare at her and then carefully say"I wouldn't pay that on Christmas Day"

You say the thing that's right and proper "I tell you what I'll make an offer" 'cause lots of work must first be doneBefore this house can be made to run"

She looks at you, her eyes ablazeShe thinks you'll wilt beneath her gaze,Then she says with helpless gestures"It's up to you," her resentment festers

Your offer is just two million and fiveProvided the banks find value insideA million in cash and the balance to comeFrom a bond that allows repairs to be done

By now it's quite late and all you want to doIs get along home and drink a whisky or two.The agent smiles as she clutches your offerKnowing with that figure the seller will prosper

And so you go home with a wife that's thrilledAlready planning how the house will be filledWith lovely new things, for a lovely new homeWhile you work your fingers down to the bone

Buying a house is a stressful eventAnd the offer to purchase you always resentbut you needn't worry 'cause you know for surethat banks aren't granting big bonds anymore

After to-ing and fro-ing and some argy-bargyYou settle a price, your happy by-and-largelyThe seller is off to his retirement aloneAnd you can do anything with your new home

Your bond is enormous, your debt's immenseBut as an investment this property makes senseSo you prepare to divide your Parktown homeInto four new townhouses that only you own

And you know full when they're ready to sellYour investment will do exceptionally wellBecause lurking right there in front of your brainIs a six million profit you will gain

Readers' Comments Have a comment about this article? Email us now.

Well, at least the bathroom's nice, even though the shower door is 2cm too far from the side panel to seal properly. But the garden really is nice, so we'll sit on the lawn and toast our fist home!!

Now I prefer your to the point punches on the NHBRC and Banks. Keep at it because the consumer is being milked and I is only by disclosing their bullying" tactics that something positive may happen.

But yes your poem is OK but when banks take 3 Months prior notice "penalty" from a client that they know they will get in 90% of the cases or at least 2 months payments in as much and the NHBRC mean no more than another tax because you dare build a home that the government has not sponsored, please kick their ... I never know who is the biggest rip off the bank of the NHBRC. – Home-a-lone