Written by: Merv Webster

While travelling up to Darwin in the Northern Territory many years back, we pulled 
into Winton in the far north-west of Queensland for a pit stop and refreshments.  
My wife was taken back at the price of some of the items which led to the 
following reflections.

"I'll have some crispy chips please sir," 
The Missus asked the man. 
"Those atomic tomato ones, 
The good old Samboy bran'. 

I guess the bright red packaging 
Sure caught the Missus eye. 
The dollar forty price tag though, 
Near made the Missus cry. 

"How much again?" she asked the man, 
Still reeling from the shock; 
"A dollar forty," old Pete said, 
And scratched his balding block. 

"They're half the price back home you know, 
How come they're so darn dear? 
The flavours not atomic mate, 
Your price is though I fear." 

"I bet that you're a tourist dear," 
Suggested Winton Pete. 
"You're sure to be a coastal kid 
 Who hates the flies and heat." 

"Most spuds down there are local grown, 
Which makes your chips so cheap, 
But if you take a squiz outside, 
You'll see there's only sheep." 

"You try and dig the ground out there, 
It's more than just a task, 
So if you want them chips my dear, 
One forty's what I ask."