It was a terrible summer, that
A hot summer that made dust fly
That came the time for a witchetty grub
For a witchetty grub to die.
For along came a brave rough man
And a brave rough man was he
He dug the witchetty grub from her place
Beneath the wichetty tree.
He dug the root, he pulled the grub
Out into the day’s cruel light
And he opened his hideous jaws
All set to close in a lethal bite.
“Oh spare me, spare me, kind sir,”
Loud cried the grub in fear
And in her shock and distress
She even wept a little tear.
“Amazing!” said the man
“You can talk, is that so!
Well, I think there is a place
Better than my stomach you can go.”
He took up the witchetty grub
Put her away and almost ran
Stumbling in his eagerness
To his dusty, trusty van.
Back along the trail he drove
And down to the distant town
Under a sky of faded blue
Through a land sere and brown.
“My fortune you will make,”
The witchetty grub told he
“For when they can hear you speak
The money will roll in to me.”
He drove through the day and night
Far from that witchetty tree
Until he came to a shining city
White beside the deep blue sea.
There he took the witchetty grub
And told her to talk or die
And listening to his cruel words
That poor witchetty began to cry.
In fact she cried such floods of tears
Quite unable to talk was she
In front of all those people there
In the city by the sea.
“ ‘Tis but a poor fraud,”
Came the verdict from one and all –
“You must think we’re stupid
To feed us a story so tall.”
“You’ll suffer for that,” said the man
“Tonight you shall be sold.
I did not lug you all this way
To be done out of my gold.”
“But I can’t help it,” said the grub
“All I ever want to do
Is to get back to the life
I had before meeting you.”
The cruel man frowned at her
In his terrible voice he said,
“You will either be sold tonight
Or to my stomach you will be fed.”
He took her to a restaurant
Where the wealthy and the tourists came
And all around him gathered those
Eager to watch this strange new game.
“A talking grub! I never knew,
That such things could be!
I am so glad I came to visit
This city by the sea.”
The smiling woman took her bag
And fumbling in it, she
Brought out at last a roll of notes
And carefully counted out three.
“That’s more than I expected,”
Chortled the cruel harsh man
And handing over the witchetty grub
Drove away in his van.
The woman took the witchetty grub
Smiled at the grub, did she
And as she did, she kissed the grub
Tender and lovingly.
The witchetty grub felt fear leave
She wriggled with pleasure and joy
And wished to burst into song
For she was no longer coy.
The woman kissed her again
Kissed her so lovingly
And kissed her yet again
In that city by the sea.
And along was brought a platter great
Of china the finest to be found
So our heroine could feel proud
Of her bed so big and round.
“I am a queen,” she would have said
“And this is sure my throne
I’m so glad I no longer live
In a root by a stone.”
This, I say, she would have said
Alas, ‘tis sad to say
Our heroine formed the centrepiece
Of the woman’s dinner tray.
The lesson, oh boys and girls
Is, you may keep in mind –
Pray do not be too good and sweet
To those who seem nice and kind.
Kindness is all very well
But pray be not too sweet
For it may just make you, friends
Just a mite too good to eat.
A hot summer that made dust fly
That came the time for a witchetty grub
For a witchetty grub to die.
For along came a brave rough man
And a brave rough man was he
He dug the witchetty grub from her place
Beneath the wichetty tree.
He dug the root, he pulled the grub
Out into the day’s cruel light
And he opened his hideous jaws
All set to close in a lethal bite.
“Oh spare me, spare me, kind sir,”
Loud cried the grub in fear
And in her shock and distress
She even wept a little tear.
“Amazing!” said the man
“You can talk, is that so!
Well, I think there is a place
Better than my stomach you can go.”
He took up the witchetty grub
Put her away and almost ran
Stumbling in his eagerness
To his dusty, trusty van.
Back along the trail he drove
And down to the distant town
Under a sky of faded blue
Through a land sere and brown.
“My fortune you will make,”
The witchetty grub told he
“For when they can hear you speak
The money will roll in to me.”
He drove through the day and night
Far from that witchetty tree
Until he came to a shining city
White beside the deep blue sea.
There he took the witchetty grub
And told her to talk or die
And listening to his cruel words
That poor witchetty began to cry.
In fact she cried such floods of tears
Quite unable to talk was she
In front of all those people there
In the city by the sea.
“ ‘Tis but a poor fraud,”
Came the verdict from one and all –
“You must think we’re stupid
To feed us a story so tall.”
“You’ll suffer for that,” said the man
“Tonight you shall be sold.
I did not lug you all this way
To be done out of my gold.”
“But I can’t help it,” said the grub
“All I ever want to do
Is to get back to the life
I had before meeting you.”
The cruel man frowned at her
In his terrible voice he said,
“You will either be sold tonight
Or to my stomach you will be fed.”
He took her to a restaurant
Where the wealthy and the tourists came
And all around him gathered those
Eager to watch this strange new game.
“A talking grub! I never knew,
That such things could be!
I am so glad I came to visit
This city by the sea.”
The smiling woman took her bag
And fumbling in it, she
Brought out at last a roll of notes
And carefully counted out three.
“That’s more than I expected,”
Chortled the cruel harsh man
And handing over the witchetty grub
Drove away in his van.
The woman took the witchetty grub
Smiled at the grub, did she
And as she did, she kissed the grub
Tender and lovingly.
The witchetty grub felt fear leave
She wriggled with pleasure and joy
And wished to burst into song
For she was no longer coy.
The woman kissed her again
Kissed her so lovingly
And kissed her yet again
In that city by the sea.
And along was brought a platter great
Of china the finest to be found
So our heroine could feel proud
Of her bed so big and round.
“I am a queen,” she would have said
“And this is sure my throne
I’m so glad I no longer live
In a root by a stone.”
This, I say, she would have said
Alas, ‘tis sad to say
Our heroine formed the centrepiece
Of the woman’s dinner tray.
The lesson, oh boys and girls
Is, you may keep in mind –
Pray do not be too good and sweet
To those who seem nice and kind.
Kindness is all very well
But pray be not too sweet
For it may just make you, friends
Just a mite too good to eat.
Copyright B Purkayastha 2009
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