Oft in the silly night the bunyips howl.
Beyond the flickering min min lights they lurk and prowl,
Threading their way through gum trees stark and white
That whisper in dread tones in dark of night.
Into a clearing under the light of the moon
They crab their stealthy way, and very soon,
To the haunting strains of a booming didgeridoo’
The bunyips dance, sashaying two by two.
They croon and stamp in a wild corroboree
Among the roots of a spreading banyan tree.
The moon looks down with a loony smile on his face
For the festive mood of the restive bunyip race.