There were those acres of field
Covered each winter by the flood
The rest of the left year fallow
Wet Land not really much good
Except for grazing cattle herds
Or producing some feed hay
At the south end of the village
Seeming almost hidden away
We village children
Could play and roam
Our unknown land
Not far from home
The killer came from Australia
Or so the stories said
Wherever it was the fact was
It left behind its dead
But not a death of any dignity
Blind and swollen eyed
Bloated bodied sitting there
Until they finally died
So deformed
They stank so much
Even our dogs
Wouldn't touch
Introduced deliberately it was said
To clear rabbits from the land
No thought of balance of nature then
That they didn't understand
Just a method of
Laying to rest
One of nature's
Perceived pests
There were certain fields
That particular year
That none of us
Went near
The following summer it was gone
As if it had never been
Apart from small piles of bones
Scattered across the scene
