Melvin McWhirter
had a water gun —
a super-size squirter
if I ever saw one!
One day in the pool
Melvin went barmy —
just by playing the fool,
he made a tsunami.
He squeezed the trigger
faster and faster;
the cascade grew bigger
and then came — disaster!
A wave so immense
swept Melvin from sight,
right over the back fence
and we don’t know his plight.
James Aitchison
Are kookaburras having fun
By laughing long at everyone?
If so, I must have missed the joke,
But then, I’m not like clever folk.
The kookaburra laughs, it’s true,
But is it ‘cause they’re seeing you?
Although they laugh and make a noise.
The same is true of many boys!
So could his be a nervous laugh,
As strangers come along the path
That brings them underneath his tree
To point at him continually?
If people did the same to you
I’m sure you’d soon be nervous too
And should they seem to want to stay,
You’d flap your wings and fly away!
But out of reach and safe up there,
A kookaburra may not care,
He’ll watch us light a barbecue
And spot the steaks we’re cooking too.
For if a cook once leaves their task,
The kooka will not wait to ask,
But swiftly swoop to snatch some meat
And take it high above to eat!
I’ve learnt his laugh is just to say
To other birds: “You stay away.
Don’t trespass in my territory:
This tree I’ve chosen’s just for me!
So do not poke your beak in here:
My laugh has made that very clear,
But if you really want to share,
We birds can share air anywhere!
– Monty Edwards
Red gum; snow gum
mountain ash and ghost gum.
Smooth bark; rough bark
stringy bark and ironbark.
Eucalypts are Aussie trees
with properties to fight disease.
Their slender crescent lolling leaves
will sigh upon a lazy breeze.
But just one thing we must refute:
although a “gumnut” sounds quite cute,
these trees have seeds in hardened suits.
They DON’T have nuts.
These trees have FRUIT!
by Celia Berrell
Australia has a lovely shape; it truly does look great.
Compared to any other land; there’s simply no debate.
I’ve studied maps in atlases, seen globes that spin around,
But nowhere on this planet can a better shape be found.
From north to south, from east to west, the outcome is quite clear.
Australia’s shape is just the best – so I will stay right here.
By Louise McCarthy
Chips was a seagull,
His best friend was Fish,
Together they made their own
Favourite dish.
A real set of villains,
Wired to steal,
Swooping and snatching
From humans mid-meal.
They could have been heroes,
This larcenous pair,
But there was a problem;
They just couldn’t share.
The other seagulls,
Tired of scraps,
Began making plans
For tricks and for traps.
They held all their meetings
In secretive places,
Aboard mighty ships
With stowaway spaces.
Then Livingstone Seagull
Came up with a scheme,
To rid their fair beach
Of that greedy gull team.
They planned a great party
On one of the ships;
The two guests of honour
Would be Fish and Chips.
They were to be named
Joint “Bird of the Year”,
And they boarded the ship
To a gushing gull cheer.
On each of their heads
Was placed a gold crown,
Pretty but heavy,
Those crowns weighed them down.
The pair smiled and waved,
As proud as could be,
The party went on
As the ship sailed to sea.
Some seagulls made speeches
Which seemed sort of long,
Then Livingstone stood
And sang them a song.
Well Fish and Chips
Were tired by now,
“We really must fly,”
They said with a bow.
The others agreed
And flocked to the sky,
Shouting “So long”
“Adios” and “Good bye”.
But poor Fish and Chips
Were weighed to the ground,
Their heads had been glued
As they had been crowned.
And try as they might
To get them unstuck,
Those crowns were on tight;
They had run out of luck.
And as they sat glumly
Each one had a wish,
Fish wanted chips,
And Chips wanted fish.
By Kylie Covark
Trim
I’m a black cat
A special cat
A ship’s cat.
I was born on the Reliance in 1799.
Of all my mother’s kittens
I was the one most fine.
I’m a black cat
A special cat
A ship’s cat.
I have four snow-white paws
And a white star on my chest.
Of all the cats on board this ship
The sailors like me best.
I’m a black cat
A special cat
A ship’s cat.
When it’s time for dinner
I don’t eat with other cats.
I sit at table with the men.
I don’t care for rats.
I’m a black cat
A special cat
A ship’s cat.
I have a trusty friend
And Matthew Flinders is his name.
He has called me Trim.
I think together we’ll find fame.
I’m a black cat
A special cat
A ship’s cat.
Matthew is a clever man
He’s sailed all round this land.
He’s given it a name
And that’s Australia – how grand.
Perhaps you have a cat at home
Is it as fine as me?
Would it like to come aboard
And sail upon the sea?
With a black cat
A special cat
A ship’s cat.
Pat Simmons
A leisurely bike ride along the bush track,
Nothing too strenuous – 2ks then back.
Nothing competitive; dawdling along,
Enjoying the scenery and humming a song.
A leisurely bike ride – me on my own,
No need to hurry, 2ks then home.
4ks in total, pedalling with ease,
One cloud of pollen watch out I may sneeze.
The bell birds say “tink” as I ride through their patch.
Then past an echidna having a scratch.
Butterflies easily keep up the pace.
Dragonflies hover; their wings look like lace.
The ride is delightful – it’s time to turn back,
But just wait a minute – what’s that on the track?
A kangaroo lazily hopping ahead.
Is it a grey or is it a red? I’ll just go and see…
Faster and faster I quadruple my cadence
Just scraping through a gap in a farm fence.
The kangaroo is bounding in front at great speed,
But I am the one who will soon take the lead.
I crank up the gears and decrease my resistance.
By crouching down low, in less time more distance.
With speed and endurance I’ve almost succeeded,
In passing a grey kangaroo unpreceded.
The tail wind is strong; I am zooming along,
But all of a sudden something goes wrong.
The kangaroo disappears off the bush track,
Into the scrub and doesn’t hop back.
I skid to a halt – my heart is arrhythmic.
I cannot believe it – oh what a mean trick!
And as the dust settles, I stand all alone,
Except for a sign that says – “20ks home.”
Louise McCarthy
Old Kangaroo and his mate Cockatoo
were travelling south
where the icy winds blew.
As night came around,
they found some flat ground
in the shade of a cave
where the river gums grew.
“It’s freezing down here,”
grumbled Old Kangaroo.
“But I’ll make a good fire
to warm us right through.
I’ve never seen trees
As enormous as these,
I’m sure I can find us a big log or two.”
So into the bush
Hopped Old Kangaroo,
Straight to the place
Where the biggest trees grew.
He was back in a while
With a humungous pile,
“This is great,” said his mate, “cos I’m shivering too.”
Then Old Kangaroo and his mate Cockatoo
fetched small sticks and big sticks
and old sticks and new.
They even took leaves
from the bushes and trees.
“This will soon warm our bones,” laughed the triumphant two.
As the fire came alive,
the old fellows threw
more branches, more logs,
and a giant tree or two.
Way up on high
they could see the sparks fly.
“I’m feeling much warmer,” said Old Kangaroo.
Then down from the ranges,
a little breeze blew,
and it whistled and whined
through the trees as it grew.
Soon everywhere
in the hot smoky air,
sparks from the roaring fire floated and flew.
“Now I’m … ouch! … much too hot,
complained Old Kangaroo,
“Well my feathers are melting,”
cried poor Cockatoo.
And as a fresh breeze
carried sparks to the trees,
the two silly friends were beginning to stew.
“Bushfire!” At last cried one of the two,
“Everything’s burning!
What are we to do?”
But try as they might,
it was too late to fight,
for feathers and fur were burning up too.
Yes, feathers and fur were burning up too –
Nothing was saved
as the fire roared through.
All the birds and the bees,
all the bushes and trees,
all the creatures that lived there,
had perished there too.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Many years later, a young kangaroo,
was travelling south
with his mate Cockatoo.
They stopped at the scene
where the fire had been,
and decided to camp
where the river gums grew.
“I’m shaking with cold,”
said one of the two.
“Let’s have a fire
to warm us right through.
I’ll get some sticks,
and a few little bits.
We don’t need too much –
just a small fire will do.”
First published in Anna the Goanna, 2000
Australian Children’s Poetry 