Home is more than just four walls,
More than just a baby grand;
When the nesting instinct calls,
Home's a house, a bit of land —
Wherefore let your hat be hung
In a cozy 5-rm. bung.

Plutocrats have gilt salons
Where, presumably, they spend
Evenings clipping their coupons,
Dreaming of a dividend.
Happier they, if they had clung
To that little 5-rm. bung.

With the years comes middle age —
Then a man may take his spouse
To the more commodious stage
Of a ten-room Tudor house.
Not, however, when he's young;
Then he needs a 5-rm. bung.

Small enough for three's-a-crowd,
Large enough for song and dance,
Tall enough for heads unbowed
To the tyrant Circumstance —
Humble, yes, but not unsung,
Strictly modern 5-rm. bung.!