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Updated: May 27, 2025
It seemed terribly lonesome and wild. When the Kangaroo spoke she remembered everything, and they both sat up and talked a little. "Mo-poke! mo-poke!" sang the Nightjar in the distance. "I wish the Nightjar wouldn't make that noise when one wants to sleep," said the Kangaroo. "It hasn't got any voice to speak of, and the tune is stupid.
It gives me the jim-jams, for it reminds me I've lost my baby kangaroo. There is something wrong about some birds that think themselves musical," she continued: "they are well behaved and considerate enough in the day, but as soon as it is a nice, quiet, calm night, or a bit of a moon is in the sky, they make night hideous to everyone within earshot 'Mo-poke! mo-poke! Oh! it gives me the blues!"
"I'd rather you sang something cheerful," said the Kangaroo to herself, but out loud she said, "I find it really too beautiful, it is more than I can bear. Please go a little further off." "Mo-poke! mo-poke!!" croaked the Nightjar, further and further in the distance, as it flew away.
Dot had never been in the town, but she was certain she had never heard anything like the Curlew's wailing in her home; and she wondered what Willy Wagtail meant, but she was too sleepy to ask; so she nestled a little closer to the Kangaroo, and with the shrieking of the Curlews, and the mournful note of the distant mo-poke in her ears, she fell asleep again.
Dot had never been in the town, but she was certain she had never heard anything like the Curlew's wailing in her home; and she wondered what Willy Wagtail meant, but she was too sleepy to ask: so she nestled a little closer to the Kangaroo, and with the shrieking of the Curlews, and the mournful note of the distant Mo-poke in her ears, she fell asleep again.
The Mo-poke wished to sing a sad song because Dot was feeling happy, but the Opossum warned it that it was sitting in a draught on the window sill and might spoil its beautiful voice, so it flew away and only sang in the distance. The Native Bear said that the story of Dot's return and the finding of Kangaroo's Joey was so strange that it made its head feel quite empty.
Not far off was a camp of quarrelsome Flying Foxes, and the melancholy Nightjar in the distance was fulfilling its mission of making all the bush creatures miserable with its incessant, mournful "mo-poke! mo-poke!" As Dot could understand all the voices, it amused her to listen to the wrangles of the Flying Foxes, as they ate the fruit of a wild fig tree near by.
It seemed terribly lonesome and wild. When the Kangaroo spoke she remembered every thing, and they both sat up and talked a little. "Mo-poke! mo-poke!" sang the Nightjar in the distance. "I wish the Nightjar wouldn't make that noise when one wants to sleep," said the Kangaroo. "It hasn't got any voice to speak of, and the tune is stupid.
"Mo-poke! mo-poke!" croaked the Nightjar, farther and farther in the distance, as it flew away. "What a pity!" said the Kangaroo, as she returned to the cave, "the 'possum made that unlucky joke of telling the Nightjar it has a touching voice, and can sing: everyone has to suffer for that joke of the 'possum's.
Not far off was a camp of quarrelsome Flying Foxes, and the melancholy Nightjar in the distance was fulfilling its mission of making all the bush creatures miserable with its incessant, mournful "mo-poke! mo-poke!" As Dot could understand all the voices, it amused her to listen to the wrangles of the Flying Foxes, as they ate the fruit of a wild fig tree near by.
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