Estate Agents

Have you ever tried to sell your house in France? Have you had the Immobiliers lead you a merry dance They tell you what your house is worth And then they promise you the earth Then disappear from view with ne’er a second glance. You start to think you’re living in a slum The phone it never rings, and the viewers never come You sit at home and wait For that agent at the gate But they never show which leaves you rather glum. And even when they bring somebody round You have to wait an age to hear the faults that they have found Like “The kitchen was too dark” or “we need more room to park”, or “the central heating made a funny sound”. Maybe you should try with someone new When you’re getting pretty desperate it’s the only thing to do But you find they’re all the same They soon forget your name And they never send you anyone to view. You wonder how they ever make a sale They’ll always fob you off with a story or a tale Of how the market’s slow And no-one wants to know But they’ll ask for their commission without fail.