Tuesday, 28 January 2014

January 28: Making a buck ...

We had a good day, put another away, with a liking for making fake money
He thought he was cool, but was just a fat fool, and sharing his cell won't be funny
Bought some printers and ink, found an Internet link, to templates of fifties real fine
It all went bad when his brother, got duped undercover, this was a really bad sign

The coppers were smart, but they had a head start, coz these blokes they had not a clue
Their telephone banter let everyone canter, and their code words were definitely not new
Warrants were sought, and cameras were bought, they followed them all over town
From Bondi’s surf hire to the boys in the Shire, admissions on tape taken down.

Six houses they raided, one fine Monday morn', hit them hard just after dawn
His garage a factory, life so satisfactory, then thousands from them it was torn
Plastic a’plenty could've made more than twenty four million in fifty buck notes
Surveillance was telling, intercepts were compelling, and as crooks they got very few votes

Self funded retirement; it felt like such fun, a suitcase of money and a place in the sun
But so soon it was over, the cuffs were in place, the abject frustration it showed on his face
A life of routine in a cell sparse and small, reflecting on just what he said in those calls
That's all I can say about those two thugs, coz I'm up to my neck in a boatload of drugs

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