Isle of the Tiger


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I’m going away to Van Diemen’s Land
Where marsupials in the bush abide.
There I’ll search for scat, and for tracks in sand,
And I’ll wander the forests far and wide
For a fleeting glimpse of the tiger’s hide.
On the alpine slopes; in the grey-green hills;
To the east and west of the Great Divide,
There his fare he finds in the fresh road kills,
Or the slow or the stricken his belly fills.
But for those who say that the tiger’s dead;
That he hunts no more by the soaks and rills,
There’s a man I know, and this man he said
That the tiger’s death is a pack of lies,
For he’s seen the beast with his own two eyes.

Historical Thylacine footage

Recent possible sighting

Cynical Limericks


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A Giant Shadow

Alexander the Great (what a man!)
To Diogenes said: “I’m a fan!”
Said the Cynic: “Look son,
You are blocking the sun,
And I’m trying to get a great tan.”

Corinthian Corruption

Diogenes carried a light
In the daytime – no not in the night.
He looked high and low
But wherever he’d go
No honest men came within sight.

Mini Mobile Home

He slept in a pot made of clay,
And he rolled it around every day.
It was quite a tight squeeze
But old Diogenes
Said: ”It’s cramped, but I like it that way.”