Dobsegna Dreaming
Posted: Sun Aug 10, 2014 8:54 am
Dobsegna Dreaming
When the kids are set up in their chosen careers,
And my financial plans are no more in arrears,
I know where I’ll head for. I know where I’ll go,
And you can come with me to check out the show.
To Irian Jaya, or else PNG,
To see if the thylacine’s still roaming free,
I’ll head with a camera tucked in my pack.
I can’t even promise I’ll ever come back.
Scientists say in millennia past
The thylacine lived in these forests so vast.
They weren’t just confined to Australia. Perhaps
Small pockets remain of these secretive chaps.
The locals all speak, from the north to the south,
Of a creature they’ve seen with a very large mouth,
All covered with stripes, with a long, stiffened tail.
Whenever it’s mentioned, their faces turn pale.
They call it “dobsegna”. It fills them with fear,
And none has been captured with arrow or spear.
Is it our thylacine? Could it be true
That it’s not quite extinct? That’s a question for you.
What would you think if it turned up at last,
Mysterious ghost from our turbulent past?
How would you feel if a live thylacine
In the forests of Irian Jaya was seen?
When I at last struggle free of the bonds
That tie me to suburbs like fair Moonee Ponds
I’ll travel far north to those forests so wild,
And I’ll try to remember my life as a child.
© Stephen Whiteside 10.08.2014
When the kids are set up in their chosen careers,
And my financial plans are no more in arrears,
I know where I’ll head for. I know where I’ll go,
And you can come with me to check out the show.
To Irian Jaya, or else PNG,
To see if the thylacine’s still roaming free,
I’ll head with a camera tucked in my pack.
I can’t even promise I’ll ever come back.
Scientists say in millennia past
The thylacine lived in these forests so vast.
They weren’t just confined to Australia. Perhaps
Small pockets remain of these secretive chaps.
The locals all speak, from the north to the south,
Of a creature they’ve seen with a very large mouth,
All covered with stripes, with a long, stiffened tail.
Whenever it’s mentioned, their faces turn pale.
They call it “dobsegna”. It fills them with fear,
And none has been captured with arrow or spear.
Is it our thylacine? Could it be true
That it’s not quite extinct? That’s a question for you.
What would you think if it turned up at last,
Mysterious ghost from our turbulent past?
How would you feel if a live thylacine
In the forests of Irian Jaya was seen?
When I at last struggle free of the bonds
That tie me to suburbs like fair Moonee Ponds
I’ll travel far north to those forests so wild,
And I’ll try to remember my life as a child.
© Stephen Whiteside 10.08.2014