Mulgawanke
A story about a Bunyip.
Some U.K. friends they said to me
“This Bunyip thing: we never see
It in the National Parks or Zoo,
Just what’s it like and what’s it do?”
“Where does it Live? Where does it go?
We’ve asked all sorts and they don’t know”.
I couldn’t tell them, so I said
“Just rest assured it isn’t dead:
It’s only gone to ground of late,
For even Bunyips hibernate”.
And then I really looked around
To see if Bunyips could be found.
From the records I consulted,
My researches all resulted
In a rather hazy picture of the beast
As Australia-wide it wandered.
Those who saw it, all responded
In a rather frightened way - to say the least.
And a good and solid witness
Who could certify the fitness
Of the Bunyip’s claim to fame is more than rare,
For all those who heard its bellow
Turned most shades from green to yellow,
And the really vital details just aren’t there.
So I found myself just beating
At the wind, and quite defeating
Any hope I had of making it a tale
Worthy of their close attention,
For the Bunyip gets a mention,
And only just a mention …. without fail.
Then I asked around the family, all the ancient Aunts and such,
They all knew about the Bunyip but they couldn’t tell me much
Till I asked an Ancient Uncle who had heard the Bunyip’s call;
And he knew just where to find one; and it wasn’t far at all.
So I followed his directions, carefully tracking down each clue -
That’s how I found MULGAWANKE, so his tale I’ll tell to you……
He’s a very old Bunyip, and sleeps all the day
Near the mouth of the Murray (just where I won’t say)
And he said, as we chatted one night at full moon,
“I think that I ought to go Walkabout soon;
For it’s many years since I caused a to-do
By chasing stray Abos and Settlers too.
Now, as I remember, when I was first seen
By a White Man, it was to Lake Bathurst I’d been.
In the year eighteen twenty (and please don’t presume
That I’ve got my dates mixed), it was Hamilton Hume
The Explorer who saw me, and wrote it all down;
He didn’t see much but he said I was Brown.
He must have been hasty, for he didn’t see
My Dusty Grey Tail, as did William Buckley,
Who surprised me one day in Lake Moodewarre.
He was looking for eels, and boy, was I sorry;
For catching stray boongs round the Barwon was fun,
But after he saw me I never got one.
I prefer to eat Queei whenever I can,
But rather than starve I’ll put up with Old Man.
Gin’s not that bad, but they are a bit tough,
For one is no morsel and two quite enough.
(In case you’ve forgotten, Queei’s young Gin
That’s Virgin, and Curvin’ and Soft in the Skin).
Old Governor Latrobe was of naturalist bent,
And two Expeditions to find me he sent.
One to the West, and one to the North,
Out looking for Bunyips the parties went forth.
With soldiers to guard them, the artists drew pictures
Of Bunyips they found in the Rivers and Ditches.
And when they returned and prepared their reports,
It was found they’d seen Bunyips of two different sorts.
Latrobe was delighted and thought they were grand -
Sent them off to Head Office in Van Diemen’s Land.
Just where they are now - well, nobody’s knowing.
One sort was me Coming; the other sort … Going!
Down Encounter Bay way lives MOOLDABBIE my Brother,
A very strange Bloke, and there isn’t another
Bunyip quite like him, for he loves to swim
With one foot on the bottom. So you’ll never see him
Except when the water is clear at low tide.
He looks like a Starfish, with feathers outside.
And long before White Man came snooping around,
All Victor Harbor was his hunting ground.
With Mooldabbie swimming there, nobody dared
Put a foot in the water. The YILKIS were scared
Of his great Evil Eye in the midst of his head;
Just by looking at Abos, he killed ‘em …Stone Dead!
In the Westernport district lived TOO-ROO-DUN,
A cousin of mine, and he was the one
Who laid eggs big as buckets with leathery shell,
Deep down in his burrow; which was just as well,
For it isn’t quite safe for young Bunyips to roam,
Until they’re quite sure of the fastest way home.
But when they’ve matured, and tried themselves out
Then it’s perfectly safe for to wander about.
Being Fierce and Gigantic with stomachs quite hollow,
One look and one roar and an Abo’s one swallow.
Now near Too-Roo-Dun’s home was a native real clever,
And he drew a picture, the clearest one ever.
A head like an Emu, a tail like a Horse,
And in between, Bullock, with hair black and coarse
All matted like Seaweed; and just to be certain,
Long legs like a Roo and a mane like a Curtain,
Three claws to each foot, just like he had been
When a native named KURRUK Too-Roo-Dun had seen.
Now, this Bunyip Mulgawanke
He was Old and getting Cranky
And he’d reached his anecdotage years before.
Though I liked his reminiscing,
I just felt “The Action’s missing”
And he might be, after all, well, just a bore.
So I said “This trip you’re taking,
What about a start be making
Before you’re stuck forever on the shore
Of Lake Alexandrina.
Why, there’s thousands never seen a
Bunyip … and they’d like to, what is more”.
So he said “Alright, I’ll buy it,
Do I walk or swim, or fly it?
What’s the best way ‘round the countryside today?
For you’ve changed the flamin’ scenery
Since I last enjoyed the greenery,
And the Queeis in the swamps ‘round Holdfast Bay,
And the Torrens River’s dribble
Makes me spit. But I won’t quibble.
Just let me have the details right away“.
So I said ”Just don’t you worry,
For there’s no real need to hurry
Buy you ought go Walkabout before you rot.
You be thinking of your ticket
And you’ll do the trip much quicker
If you fly ’round, for walking’s too damned hot!
Have a good look at the City
Though it isn’t really pretty;
But Adelaide’s real proud of what it’s got.
If you think that you can take it,
And your tired old bones could make it,
There’s a place you really ought to cast your eye.
You will find it out from Pimba
On the Gibber Plains. No timber,
But you’ll see all sorts of rockets in the sky.
Any you’d have all Woomera blinking,
With the Scientists all thinking
Of the theses they could write - ”How Bunyips Fly“.
Then he shook his mane and snorted
”Just don’t think that I’ll be thwarted
By a trip like that. I’d do it on me ear.
Why, ten thousand mile’s no trouble
To a Bunyip at the double.
I’ll be back come Monday fortnight, never fear“.
And he left, with roars of laughter
And I never saw him after.
Should you sight him, I’ll be more than glad to hear.
In the paper, Friday morning was a little Par. I saw,
Tucked away beneath the columns where they tell of Courts of Law,
That a strange, peculiar object had been sighted in the sky
In a territory prohibited for anything to fly.
Then the Air Force did it’s duty - that’s what the paper said.
Did they get my Bunyip cobber? Is old Mulgawanke dead?
I don’t think so - for the Air Force hasn’t got a weapon yet
That will atomise a Bunyip; and I for one, will bet
That he dodged them and he’s resting in some quiet, secluded spot
Where I’ll never ever find him (though I’d rather that he’d not).
So if you find Mulgawanke, will you kindly let me know?
For I want to take a picture just to prove that Bunyips grow.
written by O. Doug Dawson, 1968.
Doug Dawson was my dad. Posting this has been on my "To Do" list for some time now, and the final impetus was provided by this entry in tatjna's journal. Maybe the NLA will notice it and add it to their list of Bunyip items on the intarwebs, or maybe not. Perhaps I could add it to the Wikipedia article on Bunyips...
Some U.K. friends they said to me
“This Bunyip thing: we never see
It in the National Parks or Zoo,
Just what’s it like and what’s it do?”
“Where does it Live? Where does it go?
We’ve asked all sorts and they don’t know”.
I couldn’t tell them, so I said
“Just rest assured it isn’t dead:
It’s only gone to ground of late,
For even Bunyips hibernate”.
And then I really looked around
To see if Bunyips could be found.
From the records I consulted,
My researches all resulted
In a rather hazy picture of the beast
As Australia-wide it wandered.
Those who saw it, all responded
In a rather frightened way - to say the least.
And a good and solid witness
Who could certify the fitness
Of the Bunyip’s claim to fame is more than rare,
For all those who heard its bellow
Turned most shades from green to yellow,
And the really vital details just aren’t there.
So I found myself just beating
At the wind, and quite defeating
Any hope I had of making it a tale
Worthy of their close attention,
For the Bunyip gets a mention,
And only just a mention …. without fail.
Then I asked around the family, all the ancient Aunts and such,
They all knew about the Bunyip but they couldn’t tell me much
Till I asked an Ancient Uncle who had heard the Bunyip’s call;
And he knew just where to find one; and it wasn’t far at all.
So I followed his directions, carefully tracking down each clue -
That’s how I found MULGAWANKE, so his tale I’ll tell to you……
He’s a very old Bunyip, and sleeps all the day
Near the mouth of the Murray (just where I won’t say)
And he said, as we chatted one night at full moon,
“I think that I ought to go Walkabout soon;
For it’s many years since I caused a to-do
By chasing stray Abos and Settlers too.
Now, as I remember, when I was first seen
By a White Man, it was to Lake Bathurst I’d been.
In the year eighteen twenty (and please don’t presume
That I’ve got my dates mixed), it was Hamilton Hume
The Explorer who saw me, and wrote it all down;
He didn’t see much but he said I was Brown.
He must have been hasty, for he didn’t see
My Dusty Grey Tail, as did William Buckley,
Who surprised me one day in Lake Moodewarre.
He was looking for eels, and boy, was I sorry;
For catching stray boongs round the Barwon was fun,
But after he saw me I never got one.
I prefer to eat Queei whenever I can,
But rather than starve I’ll put up with Old Man.
Gin’s not that bad, but they are a bit tough,
For one is no morsel and two quite enough.
(In case you’ve forgotten, Queei’s young Gin
That’s Virgin, and Curvin’ and Soft in the Skin).
Old Governor Latrobe was of naturalist bent,
And two Expeditions to find me he sent.
One to the West, and one to the North,
Out looking for Bunyips the parties went forth.
With soldiers to guard them, the artists drew pictures
Of Bunyips they found in the Rivers and Ditches.
And when they returned and prepared their reports,
It was found they’d seen Bunyips of two different sorts.
Latrobe was delighted and thought they were grand -
Sent them off to Head Office in Van Diemen’s Land.
Just where they are now - well, nobody’s knowing.
One sort was me Coming; the other sort … Going!
Down Encounter Bay way lives MOOLDABBIE my Brother,
A very strange Bloke, and there isn’t another
Bunyip quite like him, for he loves to swim
With one foot on the bottom. So you’ll never see him
Except when the water is clear at low tide.
He looks like a Starfish, with feathers outside.
And long before White Man came snooping around,
All Victor Harbor was his hunting ground.
With Mooldabbie swimming there, nobody dared
Put a foot in the water. The YILKIS were scared
Of his great Evil Eye in the midst of his head;
Just by looking at Abos, he killed ‘em …Stone Dead!
In the Westernport district lived TOO-ROO-DUN,
A cousin of mine, and he was the one
Who laid eggs big as buckets with leathery shell,
Deep down in his burrow; which was just as well,
For it isn’t quite safe for young Bunyips to roam,
Until they’re quite sure of the fastest way home.
But when they’ve matured, and tried themselves out
Then it’s perfectly safe for to wander about.
Being Fierce and Gigantic with stomachs quite hollow,
One look and one roar and an Abo’s one swallow.
Now near Too-Roo-Dun’s home was a native real clever,
And he drew a picture, the clearest one ever.
A head like an Emu, a tail like a Horse,
And in between, Bullock, with hair black and coarse
All matted like Seaweed; and just to be certain,
Long legs like a Roo and a mane like a Curtain,
Three claws to each foot, just like he had been
When a native named KURRUK Too-Roo-Dun had seen.
Now, this Bunyip Mulgawanke
He was Old and getting Cranky
And he’d reached his anecdotage years before.
Though I liked his reminiscing,
I just felt “The Action’s missing”
And he might be, after all, well, just a bore.
So I said “This trip you’re taking,
What about a start be making
Before you’re stuck forever on the shore
Of Lake Alexandrina.
Why, there’s thousands never seen a
Bunyip … and they’d like to, what is more”.
So he said “Alright, I’ll buy it,
Do I walk or swim, or fly it?
What’s the best way ‘round the countryside today?
For you’ve changed the flamin’ scenery
Since I last enjoyed the greenery,
And the Queeis in the swamps ‘round Holdfast Bay,
And the Torrens River’s dribble
Makes me spit. But I won’t quibble.
Just let me have the details right away“.
So I said ”Just don’t you worry,
For there’s no real need to hurry
Buy you ought go Walkabout before you rot.
You be thinking of your ticket
And you’ll do the trip much quicker
If you fly ’round, for walking’s too damned hot!
Have a good look at the City
Though it isn’t really pretty;
But Adelaide’s real proud of what it’s got.
If you think that you can take it,
And your tired old bones could make it,
There’s a place you really ought to cast your eye.
You will find it out from Pimba
On the Gibber Plains. No timber,
But you’ll see all sorts of rockets in the sky.
Any you’d have all Woomera blinking,
With the Scientists all thinking
Of the theses they could write - ”How Bunyips Fly“.
Then he shook his mane and snorted
”Just don’t think that I’ll be thwarted
By a trip like that. I’d do it on me ear.
Why, ten thousand mile’s no trouble
To a Bunyip at the double.
I’ll be back come Monday fortnight, never fear“.
And he left, with roars of laughter
And I never saw him after.
Should you sight him, I’ll be more than glad to hear.
In the paper, Friday morning was a little Par. I saw,
Tucked away beneath the columns where they tell of Courts of Law,
That a strange, peculiar object had been sighted in the sky
In a territory prohibited for anything to fly.
Then the Air Force did it’s duty - that’s what the paper said.
Did they get my Bunyip cobber? Is old Mulgawanke dead?
I don’t think so - for the Air Force hasn’t got a weapon yet
That will atomise a Bunyip; and I for one, will bet
That he dodged them and he’s resting in some quiet, secluded spot
Where I’ll never ever find him (though I’d rather that he’d not).
So if you find Mulgawanke, will you kindly let me know?
For I want to take a picture just to prove that Bunyips grow.
written by O. Doug Dawson, 1968.
Doug Dawson was my dad. Posting this has been on my "To Do" list for some time now, and the final impetus was provided by this entry in tatjna's journal. Maybe the NLA will notice it and add it to their list of Bunyip items on the intarwebs, or maybe not. Perhaps I could add it to the Wikipedia article on Bunyips...