Part - The First

I’d like to be a wombat,And shit in khaki cubes,No need for tents or campstoves,Or bloody yabby tubes.

Oh, I’d like to be a wombat,‘Cause the wombat travels light;Eats roots and leaves and then justDigs a comfy hole at night.

So I’d like to be a wombat,Even though they’re rather dumb,Short-sighted and real hairy,With a body that’s half bum.

Still, I’d like to be a wombat,‘Cause they’re built strong, wide and low;No scrub nor slope can stop them,Where they want to get, they go.

Yes, I’d like to be a wombat,And roam the mountains free;No passes and no permits,Nor damned park entry fee.

So karma if you’re list’ning,And wish my pain to heal,I’d like to be a wombatOn the next turn of the wheel.

NNW is from Hobart and has spent a lifetime bushwalking. Her photographs often feature in the magazine and calendar.

Wedgie Kelly Nowak

Wombat drawingSally Oakley

Part - The Second

I still admire the wombat,As all true walkers must,For when the game’s scrub-bashingThey leave us in the dust.

But reality and karmaHave conspired to call my bluffBy reminding me that wombats,Just like people, do it tough.

Every inch of progress madeMust be earned by sweat of brow,And sometimes I get lazy,(Like, for instance, just right now).

Now this lethargy and ageingHave lifted up my eyesTo another aspiration,Which is taken from the skies.

No more earthbound existence!Give me feathers and hooked beak;I’d rather be a wedgie,And soar from peak to peak!