Charley, you mean you've seen the famous fliting wombats? I've lived here 51 years & I've never seen them - some folks have all the luck.

But have you seen the bunyip? Not many folks see them, then it's usually late at night, in a dark swamp ...

sandra

Too-Roo-Dun
The dreamtime folk of Gippsland had a dread tale to report
Of the Bunyip living somewhere in the bay called Westernport,
They shunned the creeks he haunted, if they saw him they would run,
They spoke of him in whispers & they called him Too-Roo-Dun.
Today their tales are heard with scorn, their warning is forgot,
Beware you merry mariners all in your weekend yacht,
He opens up his gullet under anything afloat,
He swallows all the humans & he spits out bits of boat.

Too-Roo-Dun, Too-Roo-Dun
When the moon is at the full and little soldier crabs do run,
The mudflats down at Westernport I recommend you shun,
It's a mighty, massive gullet has the bunyip, Too-Roo-Dun.

His measurements are monstrous and a dreadful tale they make,
His head is like an emu, his body like a snake,
His carcass thick as several trees, his teeth just like a shark,
A frightful apparition to see gliding through the dark.
And up among the Anderson, or so the locals say,
You can see his ribmarks graven on the mudflats on the bay.
When herds of champion Herefords mysteriously have gone,
The rumour says they've vanished down the throat of Too-Roo-Dun.

Too-Roo-Dun, Too-Roo-Dun,
They say some bloke from Orbost tried to take him with a gun,
They only found his footprints at the rising of the sun,
And still he's lurking out there is the bunyip, Too-Roo-Dun.

And when the nightclouds hide the moon and tide is at the flood,
The ghastly bunyip, Too-Roo-Dun, comes creeping from the mud.
He glares between the mangroves with his wicked, beady eyes,
Looking for a juicy meal, to take it by surprise.
You might be walking on the beach, you'll hear a subtle sound,
Perhaps you'll wonder at it, maybe you'll turn round,
His eyes you'll see, his breath you'll smell, all fishy, cold & wet,
And suddenly ...................YOU'RE ATE!

c. John Warner, 1992.
from The Briggs and Stratton Pump and other Verse by John Warner (1994)