Another Dead Wombat

Another dead wombat lay on the road side Under the wheels of a speeding car he must have died Another dead wombat and too few who care That these indigenous creatures already quite rare. No more will he graze in the paddock nearby When the face of the moon shines in the starry sky And defend his borders and for the right to mate fight An do the things all wombats do in the night. No more at daybreak will he return to the glen To his home remote from the houses of men And free of disturbance where rank scrub abound Sleep for most of the day in his hole in the ground. Another dead wombat it does seem a shame They lived in peace here till the white people came Lying dead on his back by the narrow road bend Will man built cars of his species be the end? He lay on his back with his feet to the sky Far too many of his kind in this way now die And what is said of the Dodo in some future day As dead as the Wombat some even might say. His kind have lived in this Country for thousands of years Yet for another dead wombat no shedding of tears And tonight he won't graze in the paddock nearby When the face of the moon shines in the starry sky.