Dreamtime

A poem about Australian Indigenous life.

I live in a land down under
Where long before white man arrived,
The bush was a place of pure wonder,
And the natives were sure not deprived.
They dined everyday according to season,
Rare were they short of a meal.
They lived in a state of perfect cohesion,
Could choose on the day whatever appealed.
If they felt like a steak or big pot of stew,
They’d go on a hunt for a day, maybe two.
Bring back a fish, crocodile, kangaroo,
Or if smart enough, an emu or two.
Its oil had numerous uses
The meat was roasted on coals
Tubers cooked in the juices.
While they sat, Dreamtime stories were told.