The Bunyip (1945)
Far off, in lonely Tuckian Swamp, the awful Bunyip cries ;His home is in the tall green reeds where deep the water lies. There, safe among the shady trees, beneath the verdant mud,
He sleeps all day and wakes at night to gambol in the flood. In Dungarubba's ancient hills his cry is often heard,
Some say it is the voice of beast ; some say 'tis that of bird. His body's like a yearling colt ; his claws are sharp and strong ;
His tail is like a rough, pine log, some nine or ten feet long. His head is long, his neck is thick, with long and waving mane.
And those who ever saw him once ne're wish to look again. His voice is that of mountain bulls--it echoes through the trees,
And rolls around the dismal swamp, borne on the midnight breeze. But those who dwell near Tuckian well know the dreadful sound
The Bunyip makes when he comes out and walks his dismal round. There is an ancient prophecy (how true, I cannot say)
Which says that he will ne'er be caught, until there comes a day When ladies three shall go for him and shall not be afraid ;
And one shall be a widow, one a matron, one a maid. And when that day shall come to pass, without the help of man
The Bunyip shall no more be heard in lonely Tuckian. Notes From the NSW Newspaper The Wingham Chronicle and Manning River Observer Fri 22 Jun 1945 p.1.