BANJOS' BILLABONGThe mournful night bird song, Pierce nocturnal nothingness, Down by Banjos' billabong The Dingo scouts the evening, He'll eat before too long, Prey will come to slake their thirst, From Banjos' billabong! Water lilies close their eyes, The black snake glides along, Then silently is half submerged, In Banjos' billabong! But! What about the Swaggie? And the Jumbuck of the song, Can their ghosts be often seen? By Banjos' billabong! Are there visions of the Squatter? And the “Traps” that went along, To nab the suspect Swaggie, Camped by Banjos' billabong. Are you sure the jolly jumbuck, The one mentioned in the song, Was it really all that happy? Tied by Banjos billabong. His cup of tea disrupted, By the squatter and his throng, The swaggie and the jumbuck plunge, Into Banjos' billabong! Listen to the bush mans tales, Some short and some quite long, How the swaggie and his mate emerge, From Banjos' billabong! Can you see his ghost return? If you hang around for long, Would it help to boil a Billy? Down by Banjos billabong! I would like to meet he swaggie, The hero of our song, And share a swig of Billy tea, Down by Banjos billabong. |
