It all seemed a bit unlikely to me, but stranger things have happened, so I decided that there was only one way to find out, and that of course was to actually visit the site.
If there were a ghostly message, what was it trying to communicate with us?
Was the story of how he died just a cover up for his murder, and he wanted to put the record straight?
Or was he trying to encourage other people to join in and pick up where he left off fighting for social justice, or seeking a more stressfree sea-change lifestyle (or a 'billabong-change' in this case)?
Or might his ghost be urging us to manage our environment more carefully?
I was going to need to research the area involved, find some old maps to get to the township district, and hopefully the locals would help me pinpoint the exact location. I was sure that if the tale was true, someone needed to record once and for all what this ghostly message was, and then spread the message to the wider Australian community ...
The only way I'd ever rest was if I went to visit
the billabong of ghostly sounds. (Seems just a tale; but is it?)
So just last week I headed out and journeyed to the scrub.
Two days of solid travel, 'till I reached a lonely pub.
The publican was wary as I asked him for directions.
He'd clearly had some issues with past folk and their inspections ...
but after my persistence what he finally told to me
was how to reach the campsite with the huge, historic tree.
It took me ninety minutes, but at last I reached the hill.
And when I climbed and stood atop, my heart raced from the thrill:
There below; a campsite, with a billabong beside,
and an ancient tree, a coolibah; so mighty, tall and wide.
This sight that lay before me made my travel thoughts all fade.
I wandered down the famous hill, to rest, down in the shade.
And when I finally reached that place I sat to catch my breath.
The site was calm, and strangely quiet; it had that smell of death.
And as I sat and soaked it up, the breeze began so slightly.
I felt the wind upon my cheeks; it stirred so soft and lightly.
Then as I felt the chill set in, I sensed something felt wrong,
and sure enough I heard the sounds; an eerie sort of song.
A spirit voice in singing tones, so soft, but just as clear ...
"If you have come to hear me out, you have no need to fear.
There's very few who pass by here; and less who stop to listen.
I love this time of evening when the dusky colours glisten.
These grassy hills of green mixed with the setting sun of gold.
Remember as you leave this place, these things that you've been told...
I'm sorry for my life of crime. A life of ruin and failure ...
... Now go you good-thing Wallabies, and Go for Gold, Australia!"
(c) TJ McGowan, Mrs Myth
