'Tis o'er at last, and his spirit passed
With a yell of fiendish hate,
And down by the shore of that black lagoon,
Where his victims met their fate—
Where the "bunyip" glides, and the inky tides
Lip, lap on the gloomy shore,
And the loathsome snake of the swamp abides,
He wanders ever more.
And when the shadows of darkness fall
(As hinds and stock-men tell)