The relentless pursuit of property was the principal reason for the crash. When prices disintegrated, so too did the economy and a generation completely outside the circle of blame was saddled with the bill. Today, we learn that not only will they not be able to buy their own homes, but in the capital where so many of them work they can scarcely afford to even rent.
Dublin rents have soared by as much as 30pc in some parts of the city.
When Taoiseach Enda Kenny said that this was the best small country in the world in which to do business in, he wasn't thinking of the business of living. The business of making ragged ends meet.
Once again, there is a rural/urban divide - there are parts of the country where rents have dropped by up to 65pc.
But in our main cities, tenants will pay more today than they did five years ago because of a severe shortage of available properties.
Our unhealthy fixation with ownership unleashed a whirlwind. Tumble weeds may roll through ghost towns where children were meant to play. The curse of bad planning is a constant reminder of our failures.
Report after report points to a housing shortage. The lack of accommodation is driving up rents and young families who bought starter homes or apartments now find themselves shackled to them as their families grow.
If they wish to buy a bigger house, they must find a 20pc deposit. How can they hope to save such a sum while forking out so much in rent?
If the dream of home ownership is now beyond many young people then it is imperative to look at the rights of tenants.
They must be able to have long-term leases with rights that give them genuine security.
Those who have struggled through the recession and accepted the crippling tax burden, the punitive levies and charges are now being sold out again. Hopefully, we have moved past the point where we are besotted by the cult of home ownership. But the right to have a roof over one's head is fundamental.
In 1916 when the GPO was pounded, and in 1966 when poor old Admiral Nelson took to the sky and the pillar was no more, across the street Clerys stood imperious, looking on disapprovingly.
It has been an institution in Dublin city since its first incarnation in 1853 as 'The New or Palatial Mart'.
It would be another 43 years before it came under the name of Clerys and was the go-to place for everything from the Christening robe to the Confirmation suit.
Expensive goods were laid out in glass cabinets as if they were Egyptian artefacts. No matter how exotic, they might be made one's own through down-payments and the 'never never'. But, just like Hector Grey's and the last of the 'cheeky Charlies', another Dublin institution is to shut its doors. The generations who shifted uneasily under its clock, waiting for that someone special to materialise out of the evening, will also have fond memories.
If ever there was a relic of old decency, then Clerys surely was it. But as the ballad says, nothing stays the same.
For the staff, there is the very real loss of their jobs.
For the rest of us, we have lost another part of what was Dublin in the rare old times.