Francis Duggan


The Ghosts Of The Bunurong - Poem by Francis Duggan

On the sand dunes at Powlett river in the dead of the night
Dark shadows are moving in the faint moonlight
The Ghosts of the Bunurong dance their Corroborees
In a circle they jig to the music of the breeze.

And as they dance they sing an old Dreamtime song
This Country to their spirits always belong
When white people are sleeping the black tribes come out
And they sing on the sand dunes as they dance about.

The old ghosts of the Dreamtime have not gone away
Like the frogmouths they hide from the bright lamp of day
But on the stroke of midnight they come out from the trees
And they dance on the sand by the southern seas.

The ghosts of the Bunurong they have not died
They dance in the moonlight on the beach at low tide
And by old Powlett river their old Countryside
At dawn they return to their old trees to hide

From the bright lamp of day but on the stroke of midnight
They dance on the sand dunes in the faint moonlight
And to the music of the breeze they sing their Dreamtime song
This Country to their spirits always belong.

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Poem Submitted: Monday, March 31, 2008



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