Tassalope
Talked of here, sighted there
Elusive as no-see Hare
Wiley beast, singular race
Never found any one place
Blood red tail, stripy back
Tassalope - mythical fact
Cross cut teeth, axe head hands
Roams far wooded Western lands
My father said, his firm belief
Tiger’s gave rise to the beast
To halt their end it came about
Nature birthed the Tassalope
It had me once, held in its stare
So close I whispered onetime prayer
Out from Huon pine it stepped
Underneath with gun I’d slept
Those eyes bore through my earthly years
Man or not I felt hot tears
Terror ripped about my soul
As jaws agape it loosed a howl
I gaped to see its monstrous size
My skin I would not save alive
Released a quiet, low set groan
That I chose to hunt alone
Lupine head, broad of chest,
Dark mottled fur, clothes divest
My rifle gently touched its throat,
From its gaze my mind awoke
The sudden speed of its attack
Had me unarmed on my back
The gun it swung toward my head
At twenty nine I would be dead
Against the tree my Enfield cracked
Barrel bent, stock clean snapped.
Down close it bent I smelled foul rank
Lord make it quick I will thee thank
But God or Devil withstood my soul
Through my ear did bite a hole
Now of this time, oh so dark
I carry from the beast a mark
Tall it stood. Over me
Victor plain for all to see
Snarling swung a mighty clout
I left this world, knocked clean out
In late night chill I came around
Clothes stuck hard to hoarfrost ground
With not a look across my shoulder
Up running sought a Red Coat soldier
This tale I spoke, fight and flight
To be cursed ‘damn drunken fight’
My collar he reached upon to hold
Off I ran, for fear makes bold
Then I tramped the wildest west
Of my resolve it was a test
A loggers trail I found at last
Cut into land a century past
I got no further. Rock rose up
A drunken Christian Cross atop
Camp side tales had told about
This sacred place, the Priest’s Lookout
A woodsman’s shed gave some respite
Sleeting snow, harsh dark night
I approached rough hewn door
Knocking loudly, then some more
Without response I gripped my pack
Strode right in, but watched my back
An old man waved I close the door
Nodding I sat on hard earth floor
Short while I watched the yellow flame
Heat seeping into my cold frame
I asked if more were round about
He whispered only ‘Tassalope’
His voice held firm, the eyes some fear
I queried what, and if it near
‘Pray you must to God good stranger
I cannot stay you from the danger’
At this I drew my bushman’s knife
I still held dear my only life
White hair sighed, gave a wink
Held out a jug of fiery drink
‘Near killed me once, ignored my pleas
It broke my bones as I fought free
In this ear it punched a hole
Scarred me on my mortal soul
Twisting face through candlelight
Stone in silver Killiecrankie bright
‘This metal has blessing from a priest
It was to me confession least
I found him dying up yonder hill
Gasped ‘Tassalope’ as blood did spill’
From without a blast of breath
Gave intent for our slow death
‘It comes for me, don’t catch its eye
You may still live whilst I must die!’
At this I lost my will, all calm
Repeating the good Shepherds Psalm
The door it heaved, quickly broke
I turned and stared the Tassalope!
The old man in my hand he thrust
A bible, mouthing ‘In God trust’
Man and beast went to the night
I long prayed for morning light
Of sounds heard I cannot speak
Mind and spirit are too weak
In this hostel I do rest
Forever in town, now is best
For I have seen the Tassalope
Never again, is my dear hope
For it is out there in the wild
No son of nature – Satan’s child