On a moonlit dawn, yawning stars fade thin,

Red Crocopii prowl, wild Kangabirds sing;

At rest beneath a huge Octopus Tree;

Lurk strange Quadly Paedomii, one, two, three;

 Chomping sweet mangoes for an evening munch,

Said I to myself, “I can catch this bunch;

To sell for cash, to some handy, big zoo;”

Said my conscience loud, “That’s not good to do!”

Such negative thoughts were cast in the trash,

Such strange new Ausmies[1] could mean lots of cash.

Money in the bank is what hunters seek,

I conjured a plan, to catch them, all three.

 Many Ausmies sleep soon after they sup,

Quickly they snoozed off, I fast tied them up.

They sleep very deep; I crept up, quite quiet,

With Spider Web String, trussed them up quite tight.

 Carried them out to the bus which I bought,

To transport all the strange Ausmies I caught.

These Quadly Paedomii surely are rare;

Never seen by man, no, not anywhere.

Quickly interned all, so they can’t escape,

In Ausmie bus cage, softly shut the gate.

Then motored off from that Octopus tree,

To Alma Park Zoo, with my rare Ausmies.

Quadly Paedomus comes, from an old Greek,

Book which was found, on the bed of some creek.

Written on pages, all tattered and frayed,

From scientist searching for strange new names.

Quads share the scrub with so many Ausmies,

Though, being bigger, they’re easier to see.

Wearing white fur, likeAngorarabbits,

They take everywhere, being Ausmies of habit.

 With large, woolly feet they keep on the ground,

Their thick, furry pads do not make a sound;

On evening strolls, to settle their dinner;

Or ambush Dingbats, help them get thinner.

 By shocking them, it’s a really beaut [2]hoot,

Dingbats run faster; they can really scoot.

Quads aren’t scary; they do this for a rush,

Pouncing from trees, to shock the Crocopus.

 Quads are not too short, nor are they that tall,

Their legs reach the ground, no trouble at all.

They are rather stout and bounce quite a lot,

To help keep them cool, when they’re feeling hot.

 I drove carefully through thick jungle, dark,

Heard a Ring Tailed Goalum loudly bark;

Quickly stopped the bus, grabbed a large Go-Flap;

(A patent applied for, new, Ausmie trap.)

 To catch rare Ausmies no one else has seen,

Unless they’ve been peeking into my dreams.

I hung the Go-Flap from a low, close branch,

Knowing Goalums mostly take the chance.

 Sure they’d come down, to check out the Go-Flap,

Then I could grab them by hand, that’s the trap!

It wasn’t long ‘til the Go-Flap was sprung,

I grabbed those Ring Tails, excitedly ran,

 Through bush to my bus, rejoicing with glee,

And the first Ring Tails in captivity.

The Voice spoke again, said, “That is not nice,

To catch those Goalums, put them on ice.

Away from families, nobody caring,

Locked in cages with strange people staring.”

I felt guilty, though only in small bits,

Having new Ausmies would make this bloke rich.

 Wealthy, famous, with much money to burn,

That fame is hollow is something I’d learn.

I parked my bus, by a tinkling creek,

To catch some sleep, after having a peek,

At the new Ausmies I captured tonight,

Ring Tailed Goalums, the Quadly Paedomii.

With fresh breaking dawn, I jumped up, quickly;

To check my captives, that they’re not sickly.

 The big Quad he looked me, straight in the eye,

He spoke softly and asked “Please tell me why?

You’ve taken us all away from our home,

Put us in cages, afraid and alone?”

 “Er, well, very well”, sure shocked, I replied,

 “To save you from boredom.” quickly I lied.

 “To offer new life, vast new horizons;
 A chance to know fame.” slickly I lied on.

“You and the Ring Tailed Goalums will see,

Cities are much more exciting than trees.

You will be famous, yes sir, you and me,

Then we can buy you some new, better trees.”

  “Wall to wall Nu-Grass, plus Evergreen leaves,

Microwave sunshine, retirement schemes;

Modern, slick gadgets, to help you survive,

Your happy new life, in Zoo 25.”

I started my bus, to get under way,

No longer could I stand to see the pain,

Scribed on their faces, but what did I care?

I could make Cash and the city was near.

 Outside the Zoo gate, that Voice spoke to me,

Said, “Look at their faces, you’ll never be free;

You’ll never forget all their sorrow and pain.”

So I turned the bus, took them home again,

I knew it was true, the Voice of the sage,

It’s wisdom, not gold, man should seek, with age.

That freedom is better, than fortune and fame,

The Ausmies sorrow would be my pain.

 I hid my bus, and my Go Flap, you see,

To live with new friends, out by their trees;

For people would not believe what I saw,

They’d say it’s crazy, but I could tell you more.




[1] Ausmies are rare, hard to find Australian bush dwellers, I think.

[2] Hoot: slang term for a fun time