We’re squashed in the back of the HQ Holden,
Three on the seat, and two more foldin’,
Windows down, elbows hangin’ wide,
Chasin’ daylight on a Sunday drive.
Mum’s got the smoke, Dad’s got the map,
Kids in the boot yell, “Are we there yet?”
We’re headin’ for nuggets and fries and a shake,
But someone forgot that the brakes don’t wait.

Stop, Mum! Brett’s fallen out of the car,
He bounced like a footy and rolled pretty far.
He’s laughin’ and dusty but he’s all right,
That’s what happens on a Macca’s night.
Stop, Mum! Oh, don’t go too far,
You’ve lost one kid but the chips aren’t far.
We’ll pick him up on the side of the tar
Stop, Mum! Brett’s fallen out of the car.

Seatbelts optional, the ‘70s ride,
No Waze or maps, just luck and pride.
AM radio hums, Slim Dusty’s croon,
Sticky vinyl burnin’ in the afternoon.
We passed the servo, missed the turn,
Mum’s still talkin’, Dad don’t learn.
Then came the shout, the screech, the laugh
Half the kids are missin’ from the photograph.

Stop, Mum! Brett’s fallen out of the car,
He’s wavin’ like a hitchhiker under the stars.
He’s fine, just dusty, don’t cry too hard
Stop, Mum! Brett’s fallen out of the car.

Now the years roll by like that Holden’s wheels,
We lived on chips and Happy Meal deals.
We still tell the story when we gather ‘round,
About Brett and that fall on McDonald’s ground.

Stop, Mum! Brett’s fallen out of the car,
A legend was born from that backseat spar.
You can buckle us in, but we’ll never go far
Stop, Mum! Brett’s fallen out of the car.