“Who am I,” asked the Bunyip. “What am I doing here?”
“Please tell me,” begged the Bunyip,” for my purpose isn’t clear.”
“No answer!” came the stern reply; “You’ll get no help from me!”
Poor Bunyip, he began to cry, “Doesn’t anyone know me?”
And thus he went a-wandering, searching far and wide
For someone who could put an end to his longing, deep inside.
One day, he found a piece of glass, discarded by a lake.
He gazed into its surface … OH! That was his big mistake!
For in that glass, he met Himself … the image struck him dumb;
No-one could love that ugly mug! (Except perhaps his Mum …)
So, overcome by black despair, the poor old Bunyip sobbed.
The tears poured down his warty cheeks, and ran into his gob.
He cried all night, and then all day, and then all night again.
The rain it poured, the wind it howled as if to voice his pain …
Then suddenly emerged a shape, out of the Primal Soup,
Round and warty … big and black … The Bunyip was cock-a-hoop!
“Who am I?” asked the creature,
(In strangely girlish voice.)
The Bunyip’s pulse began to race …
His lumpy heart rejoiced …
“What am I?” begged the creature.
“Oh! I WISH that I could see!”
“You’re a Bunyip!” cried the Bunyip,
“And you look, … well,
“Just like ME!”
A bunyip, as our Aussie members will know, is a mythical creature - or is it?
They are said to inhabit small ponds, and are lovable - but not handsome ...
Copyright © Frances King | Year Posted 2009
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