We’d saved up our deposit,
And thought we’d go and bid
For our dream home in the suburbs,
Me and Tracey and the kids.
We’d lined up with the bankers
Two hundred thousand plus.
“For two-by-four and fibro,
It’s got to be enough.
A small free-standing dwelling,
In a not-too-distant street
Just two-by-four and fibro,
It’ll do us like a treat.”
We’d fronted for the auction,
When next to us appeared
A swarm of hungry yuppies,
All cashed up and negative-geared.
They climbed out from their beemers,
And set the bids afire.
We stood and gaped in horror
As we watched it soaring higher,
With its chipboard and formica,
Zincalume and gypsolite,
Our two-by-four and fibro
Spinning upward out of sight.
And so the search continued.
At each stop on the track,
We found that we could almost buy
The dunny out the back.
The distances grew longer.
“If these travelling times are right,
We’ll meet ourselves each morning
Coming home the previous night.”
Far beyond the misty mountains
And across the plains it went,
Our two-by-four and fibro
Sliding off the continent.
But at last we made our purchase,
In a new spec-built estate,
On a treeless tract of dustbowl
Just this side of North West Cape.
There are holes now in the fibro,
There’s not a pane of glass.
The kids ride with the Mongrel Mob,
Or fail in every class.
We live on beans from Bi-Lo,
With debts above our heads.
We’ll make our final payment
From a graveyard, when we’re dead.