Proud Symbol of our country
Is the noble kangaroo.
But his eminence seems to vanish
When he's wanted for the stew.

They cull him by the thousands;
Employing hunters for the kill
And he's slaughtered on the weekend
By those who shoot for thrill.

He's been hounded from his habitat
And shipped away to zoos
Is this how we should treat our icon
The Australian kangaroo?

They place him on our coat of arms
Our stamps and money too.
And they're never shy to wave the flag
Of that boxing kangaroo!

Yet they skin his fur for profit
And sell his meat for gain.
If those weekend hunters had their way,
There'd be no more on the plains!

There's nothing more Australian
Than a red or grey kangaroo.
He's a warrior, he's a fighter
And he belongs to me and you.

As a nation we've been honoured
With a very special charge,
We're the only country left on earth
Where the 'roo still roams at large.

And so our children share this pride
We must do what we can do.
To save some face - and restore the grace,
Of our mighty kangaroo!

Bill Charlton ©Copyright 2004

You have trod this land forever
in this harsh place we've come to know.
You have learnt the skills of survival
passed down from eons ago.

We put you on a pedestal
up there on our coat of arms.
Our unique Australian emblem
of beauty, grace and charm.

We said that we'd protect you
but money fuels the kill.
After all, you're only kangaroo
to be taken at our will.

You fly the skies on a great white bird;
Ambassador in contrast stark
But out in the dark your cries aren't heard
when the bullet hits it's mark.

With guns and lights they come in the night,
Under the cover of darkness they steal your life.
Your babies are left to die alone,
Just what in hell gives them the right.

They call it culling but they take the best
and line their pockets with your fur and skin.
Your flesh is sold in pet shop markets
and the gene pool suffers in your next of kin.

Kangaroo, I pray for you;
I hope you will survive.
Just when will they ever learn
you're worth much more alive.

You are the spirit of Australia;
the one icon we all relate.
Red, blue or grey we all know you,
Help us stop before its too late.

D.L. Barnden ©Copyright 2002

I was your living symbol-south, through mist
Of primal morning, in the lonely dawn,
I came to you ... bright fortress of the sun,
Wild continent of colour - the Yaraandoo,
Whose winged outriders beat against the night
And, at the last day's ending, they will know ...
White birds, my spirit follows in their flight.
I am your dying emblem - broken here,
Whose blood, more ageless than this timeless land,
Gushes for gold across the plundered plain
And floods my country ... at the gun's command.

Nan Ingleton

How can his small hands ward off the leaden shot
or his weakness mitigate the savagery of dogs?
or bewilderment appease the hunting appetite
of carnivores let loose on lesser things?

But see him in movement. Let the inimitable curve
of that flight over his own grey fountains of grass
(that mock the near-dry creekbeds of his land).
Sear your eyeballs; and engrave with fine
exactness some surface of your brain.

So that you, and your children's children,
shuffling their trodden paths among the concrete shall,
with an inner vision, glimpse that swift-drawn line
and know, with anguish, the beauty of his going
before the foes closed in.

H.C. Coleman