My Theory: Santa Claus Is a Real Estate Agent

Editor’s note: It’s no secret that Candy Evans knows real estate, but did you know she is known to wax poetic. I don’t mean that metaphorically; the lady truly has a gift for rhyme. Here is her clever reimagining of the holiday classic ‘Twas the Night Before Christmas, as seen through the eyes of a North Texas listing agent.

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‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the hood
A last-minute showing put everyone in a mood
Sellers have been anxious, ready to move
So they said, “Yes!” Bring them over to see our tongue-and-groove

The children were already nestled, all snug in their beds,
When their parents woke them, eyes sleepy, messy hair on their heads

The wife and he were decked, reservations for two
But buyers come first, sorry Mr. Charles and Wagu

Who tours homes on Christmas Eve? … Impatient men
The buyer wants a write-off before year’s end

So they drove up and hopped out in a flash
Too excited, she tumbled and fell, suffered a mean gash

(We told the sellers this walk needs more light
Well, did they listen? Not even a slight)

The moon on the breast of the short-lived snow
Made me pray a pipe had not burst on the bough

But…

When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature sleigh, and eight reindeer

(Quite!)

The little old driver looked familiar and nice
In his red suit and hat, and boots ready for ice

Turns out he’s an agent, goes by St. Nick “the great”
However, his business card photo is still from 1978

The night sky twinkling, I heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of each little reindeer hoof.

As I grabbed the Supra box and turned around,
Down the chimney old St. Nicholas came with a leap and bound.

Never mind the fireplace was gas, with ceramic logs so fake
I hoped he didn’t crack them with his hefty Santa Claus-looking gait.

He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,
But his clothes were tarnished with ashes and soot;

Not before a showing! I cried and begged aloud
The last thing we need is a mess or dirty shoes allowed

He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old dear
Just like the Santa Claus at Northpark Centre last year

He spoke not a word to me, but went straight to work,
Tidied the house; turned on lights, then turned with a jerk,
“Are you going to stay?” he asked me, wrinkling his nose
I thought this guy’s a real thorn. But the buyers think he’s a rose

He walked his clients to their Tesla, and gave the team their commission
Nick thanked them all, and even me, for this impossible mission.

The staging, the open houses, texts from real nuts
And those phantom agents who wanted their cut

Away, away to Addison Airport he flew
He told his assistant, “Son, there is more work to do.”

But I heard him exclaim, when he met his ride at the gate
HAPPY CHRISTMAS TO ALL, 2026 will be great!