Once upon a time . . . this land was your land,

this land was my land, and well before that

the Aborigines had it ( that was well before we

took it off them )

Now. . .this land is the developers land

paddocks are shrinking, trees falling by the wayside,

bush going the way of all cash.

'Smash everything and rebuild'

the song of the concrete criminals

echoing left, right, and centre, flowing

unhindered far and wide to cover, square metre

by square metre the known universe.

The price of this progress is a rapidly expanding

concrete landscape, devoid of any shape, or soul,

and seemingly thrown together with the help and

expertise of a kiddie and his building blocks,

and the eternal balancing of a balance sheet.

Give us another song Woody.