Then he has recourse to the recitative, and recounts his past glories in the fray or the coming fight, and finally retires quietly to rest. A favourite song, set to a wild and indescribably plaintive air, was heard by Grey north of Perth. It treats of the actions of the native Warbunga:—
"Kad-ju bar-dook,
War-bung-a-loo,
War-bung-a-loo,
Kad-ju bar-dook,
War-bung-a-loo,
War-bung-a-loo"
Which translated—
"Thy hatchet is near thee,
Oh, Warbunga,
Oh, Warbunga,
Thy hatchet is near thee,
Oh, Warbunga,
Oh, Warbuuga."
These words were sung in infinite repetition for about an hour, without change or rest.
Another song, from the Murray district (W.A.), which refers to absent friends, runs:—
"Kar-ro yool, i, yoolā!
Kar-ro yool, 1, yoolā!"
"Return hither, hither ho!
Return hither, hither ho!"
When the Beagle was making Admiralty surveys on the Western Australian coast, in 1838, a native named Mago accompanied the expedition. In his absence his mother constantly chanted:—
"Ship hal win-jal bat-tar-dal gool,
Ship bal win-jal bat-tar-dal gool."
"Whither is that lone ship wandering?
Whither is that lone ship wandering?"
The following more ambitious song is given on the authority of Captain Grey. "The reader must imagine a little hut, formed of sticks fixed slanting into the ground, with pieces of bark resting against them, so as to form a rude shelter from the wind; underneath this were seated round a fire, five persons—an old man, and his four wives; one of these was considerably younger than the others, and being a new acquisition all but herself were treated with cold neglect. One of her rivals had resolved not to submit patiently to this, and when she saw her husband's cloak spread to form a couch for the new-comer, she commenced chanting as follows, addressing old Weer-ang, her husband:—
'Wherefore came you, Weer-ang,
In my beauty’s pride,
Stealing cautiously
Like the tawny boreang[1]
On an unwilling bride?
'Twas thus you stole me
From one who loved me tenderly:
A better man he was than thee
Who having forced me thus to wed,
Now so oft deserts my bed.
Yang, yang, yang, yoh.
Oh, where is he who won
My youthful heart,
Who oft used to bless,
And called me loved one?
You, Weer-ang, tore apart,
From his fond caress
Her whom you now desert and shun;
Out upon thee, faithless one!
Oh, may the boyl-ya bite and tear
Her whom you take your bed to share!
Yang, yang, yang, yoh.
Wherefore does she slumber
Upon thy breast,
Once again to-night,
Whilst I must number
Hours of sad unrest,
And broken plight?
Is it for this that I rebuke
Young men who dare at me to look?
Whilst she, replete with arts and wiles,
Dishonours you, and still beguiles.'
To which the younger female replies :—
'Oh, you lying, artful one,
Wag away your dirty tongue,
I have watched your tell-tale eyes,
Beaming love without disguise:
I've seen young Imbat nod and wink,
Oftener perhaps than you may think.'"
It seems doubtful whether the native mind can sustain such a number of ideas as are contained in this chant, and the probability is that Grey heard the basis—he distinctly mentions that he heard the chant—and improved and elaborated it in the translation. At any rate the poem is so ambitious that students of the aborigines prefer to doubt the original.
From their camps the natives go out and collect their food and return with the spoils; but as often, especially in the more temperate weather, they move from place to place, and where they collect sufficient there remain until it is consumed. The number and variety of their dishes surprises the curious, and embrace numerous indigenous roots and plants, animals, fish, worms, and birds. The quality of some of these foods would repel the European, but Grey, who was courageous enough to taste most of them, such as grubs and other delicacies not included in the English menu, found them quite palatable, some times delectable, and nearly all nutritious. Their food supplies in the richer districts are usually ample, but through indolence in the height of summer, and cold in the depth of winter, they sometimes go for days without eating. Kangaroos, fish, whales (when the ocean casts one upon the beach), seals, species of oyster, wild dogs, turtle, emus, wild turkeys, pigeons and other land birds, opossums, frogs, salt water shell-fish, snakes, iguanas, rats, mice, white ants, the nuts of the zamia palm, twenty-nine sorts of roots (Grey's list), seven kinds of fungus, four of gums—the kuowat from the swamp mimosa for preference—manna, flowers of several species of banksia, one kind of earth which they mix with the root of the mene, almonds of pandanus, wild grapes, guavas, capparis, fruits, and seeds, are all included in their bill of fare. They show a most intimate knowledge of the precise localities where these varied foods are to be found, and when. The nuts of the zamia palm are stored in the ground to make them better and safer eating. The roots are collected with sticks and hands, and as the natives grope in the water-ways or search curiously on the higher ground, they make a quaint spectacle. By well-known laws they cannot gather certain plants when in seed, in order evidently to prevent their extinction; and there are numerous other laws dealing with the chase or hunt. Occasionally one district produces a plenitude of food which another does not contain, and vice versa; then there is an exchange of products. But to this list of foods must be added others less attractive. In the desert country, when famine drives them to extremes, they resort to a peculiar practice. The arm of the strongest native is bandaged and a vein is cut. Another native taking in his hand the powdered root of a tree allows the blood to trickle into this, and when the mass is damped it is formed into a ball, tossed aside, and more powder brought, until the native can afford to lose no more blood. These balls they eat. On other occasions dry bones are
- ↑ Boreang, a male native dog.
