I often walk past houses that are rather down at heel

With roofs that are quite rusty, and the paint about to peel.

Sometimes there’ll be a rambling rose, sometimes a lemon tree,

But always there’s a Hills Hoist for all the world to see.

 

The people in these houses are looked down upon by some

Who’ve never had to worry where the next meal’s coming from;

Who’ve never had to budget, and account for every cent,

To put food upon the table, and to keep up with the rent.

 

But, the people in these houses always smile and say G’day

Or give me such a cheery wave as I go on my way

Each morning to the station to catch the city train,

Although they are nowhere to be seen when I come home again.

 

For it is always rather late when my working day is done

As I keep adding to my wealth - it used to be such fun-

But as I wend my weary way to my smart expensive home

I wonder why it was I chose to live alone.

 

Although I have more than I need, there are some things I lack

And they are love and friendship, but there is no going back

No matter how I feel, for I grew up in a house that was rather down at heel

And yet, would I be happier if I were one of those

Whose wealth was just a lemon tree, or perhaps a rambling rose.