He went into his harvest barn,

And from his plump and yellowed wheat

Four pairs of eyes looked down on him,

Immensely seeing and discreet.

Ready to run or keep their place

At the appointed midnight meal

He stood, a witness in the gloom,

And watched the furry robbers steal.

And so they ate and so he stood

Less farmer than philosopher;

These were the native of the Land

When the wild grains invested her.

A space he stood his heart bewrayed

By all the strange primeval past;

Why should these creatures be denied?

That he should feast why should they fast?

Still nothing solved he left them there

And moved towards that lightened pane

Past which She slept and all their brood…

Next day the miller had the grain.

Source:

Australian Bush Ballads. (2004) Axiom publishing.