“Soon the great Wonga plain appears,
They strike their shields, and raise their spears;
With hasty strides now onwards press,
Nor heed the place or time of rest.
“Ne’er was there such a day as that,
When the late-dead by the living sat;
Nor were such paltis ever sung,
As through the woods all that night rung.
“Very often they told the tale
How their courage began to fail,
How with kutta, spear, and wirri,
They at length did slay Kupirri.
“Time roll’d on, the hunters brave
Were fast descending to the grave,
The youths would oft recite, in play,
The heroic deeds of a former day.
“Years pass by, the period came
When to perpetuate their fame
Our tribe great mystic rites perform’d,
Pilla and Inda were transform’d.
“Behold ‘Pilla,’ the Native Cat!
Varied spots adorn his back,
For thus his cruel brother mark’d him,
When he in quarrel spear’d him,
“Behold the Oppossum, ‘Inda,’
His face streak’d by the uwinda,
Great Pilla’s unnatural deed,
When they in fight both disagreed.
“Henceforth our tribe did dwell in peace,
Nevermore hurt by monstrous beast;
They multiplied and grew apace,
And so arose our mighty race.”
