Hello!
Welcome to the deepest part of the ocean!
Well, not this top bit.
If your ship was actually in the deepest part of the ocean
You’d probably be pretty upset right now!
Hahaha!

Actually
You do look pretty upset right now.
What’s the matter?
Tough voyage? I know how it can be for you sailors.
You’re not off course are you?
Not that I’m not pleased to see you,
but we don’t often get ships in this neck of the woods.
I said that to put you at your ease.
I have no idea what a woods is.
Although I am something of an authority on neck.

Oh for goodness sake!
What’s all this shouting in aid of?
I’m only trying to be hospitable.
What are you doing?
Ow!

Well, really.
Burning arrows?
I call that rude.
And also very stupid.
I don’t know if you’ve noticed
But there’s an awful lot of water around here.
As a weapon, fire isn’t really going to cut it.

Is this about all the ships that have sunk round here?
I’m to blame for storms and drunken captains, I suppose.
Always nice to have a scapegoat when you’ve got to explain
What happened to all that cargo.
“Oh, it wasn’t us buggering up the navigation, governor
It was the big nasty sea serpent what done it!”
Typical.

I had been going to warn you about the whirlpool up ahead
And the school of murderous giant squid
That lie in wait for ships just like yours
But I might just as well keep my advice to myself.
And let you find out about them on your own.
Honestly.
You try to be civil, and what do you get?
Good day to you, sirs.
I said good day.

I’m thirsty for goatblood,
I’m gonna suck goatblood.
As mysterious creatures go

I’m quite easy to read.
If I’m here, the goats bleed.
I’m unsure what else you need to know.

In the heat of the day
When the sun’s at its height
Come and rest where it’s cool,
Near my tree. I won’t bite!

Haven’t got any teeth
And I’m really quite small
So you see there’s no reason
To fear me at all.

I’m the yara-ma-yha-who
So don’t be afraid:
It’s so hot in the sun,
Come and sit in the shade.

Pretty soon you’ll relax
And perhaps fall asleep
And then, down the trunk
Of my tree I will creep

And so gently I’ll place
Both my hands and my feet
On your hot, clammy skin,
And then I’ll start to eat

The blood leaves your body
And flows into mine
You’ll be cool soon enough
As I tenderly dine.

For not every vampire
Is wings in the night
My prey comes to me
When the sun’s at its height.

The Bunyip is an Australian monster. Descriptions vary. A lot.

(Apologies to the people of Australia for mangling Matilda.)

You should be careful when swimming in the billabong
You can’t be sure what is lurking beneath
All the weeds and the mud. But there’s something that is waiting there:
Waiting and watching and grinding its teeth.

What is a bunyip?
What is a bunyip?
You’ll never know because you’ll never see
Until it’s far too late and I’ve got you in my tucker bag.
What is a bunyip? Well darling, it’s me!

Some say I looks like a starfish or an octopus
Others insist that I’m more wallaby
Or a horse or a dog, or perhaps a hippopotamus
Nobody’s sure what a bunyip should be

What is a bunyip?
What is a bunyip?
You’ll never know because you’ll never see
Until it’s far too late and I’ve got you in my tucker bag.
What is a bunyip? Well darling, it’s me.

I lay my eggs, (it turns out that I’m amphibious)
Not in the nest in the fork of a tree,
No, I seek out the nest of an unsuspecting platypus
That’s where my children are waiting for me.

What is a bunyip?
What is a bunyip?
You’ll never know because you’ll never see
Until it’s far too late and I’ve got you in my tucker bag.
What is a bunyip? Well darling, it’s me

Next time you come down to paddle in the billabong
Up jumps the bunyip and grabs you with glee
And at last you will know, for a moment, that I’m beautiful:
Then I’m afraid that it’s time for my tea!

What is a bunyip?
What is a bunyip?
You’ll never know because you’ll never see
Until it’s far too late and I’ve got you in my tucker bag
What is a bunyip? Well darling, it’s me

An evil fairy/muse who feeds on the love – and blood – of the artists she inspires. Eventually she gets bored of them, leaving them to pine away and die: unable to live without her.

You’ve got to suffer for your art
My darling, what must be must be.
Your genius comes from the heart
So give your heart, my love, to me.

My darling, what must be must be
So many works of art you’ll make!
So give your heart, my love, to me
I’ll give you more than I will take –

So many works of art you’ll make!
Until the day I tire of you,
I’ll give you more than I will take.
And then you’ll die. They always do.

Until the day I tire of you,
Your genius comes from the heart.
And then you’ll die. They always do.
You’ve got to suffer for your art.

I protect them: they’re my humans.
One day I’ll look after you when
You are dead, and you come here
You’ll have nothing more to fear.

Legends say that I’m aggressive,
Uncontrollable, possessive.
Snarling, slavering, and scary.
I’m not bad, I’m simply wary.

Got three heads to help me see:
No-one can sneak up on me.
Got a serpent for a tail.
Got a task. I will not fail.

Slaves and peasants, lords and ladies,
All will pass the gates of Hades.
Once they’re here, no ills affect them:
They’re my humans. I protect them.

wake up
that’s right
don’t move
sit tight
oh wait
you can’t

can’t sit
can’t stand
can’t un-
derstand
can’t move
can’t breathe

i’m here
with you
you can-
not do
a thing
to stop

me sit-
ting here
to watch
your fear
go back
to sleep

and dream
of me
perhaps
you’ll be
alright
again

next time
you wake
but don’t
mistake
the brief
reprieve

i will
return
you’ll nev-
er learn
to get
me off

your chest

It’s nearly your time of the month, and you know how it is.
Before you expect it, your hormones are starting to fizz.
You get irritable, you get hungry, you do not know why…
Then you suddenly notice the shape of the moon in the sky.

The cramps are the worst, as your muscles and skeleton shift
And the fur coming through’s kind of itchy but oh, when you lift
Up your voice and it’s no longer human, but something quite new
You remember the wolf who is always there, waiting in you.

You will find that your appetite’s changed: salad isn’t enough
And if you are usually vegan, this part will be tough.
But the wolf that’s within you knows just how to get a good meal.
After all, bit of blood once a month? Really, what’s the big deal?

I don’t see what’s so special about griffins
They’re, well, you know, chimeric, just like me.
A patchwork creature. Just a bit. of this’n
A bit of that. Look at one, and you’ll see,
There’s Eagle, Lion and horse, A freakish mixture.
You would have thought we’d both of us get slated
But no, that regal-looking fuck’s a fixture
On all the heraldry. And I’m just… hated.

Perhaps it’s the two heads, lion and goat,
(Well, three, counting the snake,) that make me ugly
And so unloved. (No flags for me, you’ll note.
Just stories about “heroes” trying to mug me.)
So maybe you’ll accuse me of self-pity
And after all, you wouldn’t be the first.
But hybrids can’t be cool unless they’re pretty:
The best of everything. And I’m the worst.

I lay the egg I am inside.
I am inside the egg I lay
To incubate the self I hide:
I lay the egg I am inside
To save the part that’s never died
When all the rest is burned away.
I lay the egg I am inside.
I am inside the egg I lay.