Here’s a great story from a good friend of mine,
His been working on Fraser Island a very long Time!
My Dingo Dream
You’re walkin’ through the forest and it’s hot and wild
You decide to take a rest, have a sleep for a while
You lay down your head, you start to dream
You open up your mind to whole new scene
You’ve got four feet; you’ve got a gaping mouth
You’re covered in hair from north to south
You’re lying’ in the sun and it’s really hot
Down comes a bird to your sleepin’ spot
He starts to sing, doesn’t watch where he’s walkin’
He’s pickin’ at worms, squarkin’ and squawkin’
His feathered brain is an empty cup
He walks past your mouth so you eat him up
You’re belly’s full and you go for a walk
You smell some tourists and you hear them talk
You walk through the trees to their picnic spot
You step right out and surprise the lot
The yell and scream, their cameras are rude
So while they photograph you, you steal their food
You squat right down and begin to bog
The dopey tourists think you’re a dog
The kids come up, they want to play
You know the rules so you walk away
They keep takin’ pictures but you’re sick of it
So when they come close you bite the twits
The tourists take a walk through the park
They leave in the morning and return at dark
But you’re a dingo, you sleep through the day
You see the tourist’s tents; you need a place to stay
You bite a hole through the tent, you let yourself in
You find a sleeping bag and you tuck right in
The tourists come back but you’re long gone
You’ve got a loaf of bread and a rubber thong
You share the bread with a dingo girl
She stays the night coz it’s a dingo’s world
The next day the sun comes up and
Three months later she has pups
Then you wake from sleep and your dingo dream
There’s a pain in your foot and you let out a scream
There’s a dingo pup chewin’ on your boots
But your feet are still in them, not so cute
That’s not so bad but the real crunch
Is that your backpack’s gone and so’s your lunch
What I’m trying’ to say is the word on the street
Is that dingoes don’t care what they eat
Tents and shoes, babies and birds
And tourists too, if they act like nerds
If you see their teeth they won’t be smilin’
If they can they’ll eat you on Fraser Island
(By Dave Laycock © 1998)
By: Shine
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Check out some other Fat Cow Co Poems
NO: 2263