Screaming Dreaming, nightmare come,
when you stolem children from their mums.
Wrenched them from their tribal home,
Screaming Dreaming, little ones on their own.
Scratch my eyes out, I don’t wantem see,
the pain and anguish you inflicted on me.
I their Mother, the earth, this land,
you stealem my children from far-off way.
Do not sit with your smart-alec ways,
when my children were herded like cattle strays.
Them special ceremonies are no longer done,
’cause you broke my people with dogs and guns.
You chained my men and starved their sons,
and raped my women and took our girls.
Why is this land dry where once it was not,
and why the increase among your poor?
You wonder how such sadness comes about,
or why suicide in the towns is now so rife?
The Dreaming screams in torment and agony,
while my old ones sing beneath out-back trees.
I wantem my children back, happy again.
My special places and spirit sites, waiting for them,
the fires to light. My spirit wails, whistles in branches high.
My old fellas blow in whirleys across my skin,
searching for all them long lost kids.
I am Australia, I am your home.
You fellas should never have stolen my flesh.
You tookem long way from their place.
You givem wrong name, stolen on trains.
I clutch my gut as you cut, my minerals now spill.
This Screaming Dreaming, nightmare made real.
You blast your holes, and exploit my womb.
First my children and now my earth-flesh tomb.
’tis misery you’ve inflicted on my first-born,
and now you think that I’m finished — wrong.
Boomerang thrown, must come back.
Your actions bad-fellas, you muckem up good.
You mixem-up my children, they copped that.
Your actions come back, karma work ‘im out.
So don’t think you fellas have gotten away.
My first born, blak-fella spirit makem pay.
This the land, my being, this place your home.
Singem children, then whirley no longer need to roam.
© Djubba (29 Mar 1997)