The Saga of Yakka
of Nimity Lea

Kiki

by Angelcat Jessie Blyton
(edited later by her little sisfur Kiki)

This is a poem about an Aussie hero cat called Yakka who saves a farm from an evil bunyip. Bunyips are mythical Australian monsters who like to inhabit watery places. Yakka is Aussie slang for work, and there are some other Aussie terms in the poem I should translate too: billy buttons are small native flowers; bogongs are a very tasty kind of moth that indigenous Australians used to feast on, and that cats love too; poddies are bottle-fed lambs or calves; red-bellies are a variety of snake (more properly called red-bellied black snakes); and a warrigal is another name for a dingo, or native dog.

This poem was essentially written by my angel sis, Jessie Blyton, years ago (before I was born), but it remained unpolished until I edited it over the last week. My sisfur and meowmie were very impressed one day to witness an orange tom they called Mickey drive away a three-foot (and venomous) brown snake which had wandered onto our neighbor's verandah! And there have been other stories about how the cats on nearby farms to us defend their young from foxes and other predators. So Jessie B wrote the poem to celebrate the bravery of our species.

The Saga of Yakka of Nimity Lea

If you ride out near Cooma and Nimitybelle
There's a story round there that the locals will tell
Of a singular farm cat of bold history
I'm referring to Yakka of Nimity Lea

It's a sleepy old picture, a warm golden morn
The poddies are weaned, the merinos are shorn
The dams are near full and the pastures are green
And there by the barn just one movement is seen

Into the sunlight, his tail in the air
Strides a great orange tom with a devil-may-care
His auburn eyes narrow, he stops and he preens
And he purrs you his story, translated it means:

"I'm Yakka the Fearless, I'm Yakka the Free
I'm Yakka, son of Yakka to the seventh degree
I'm the one and only Yakka of Nimity Lea
And nothing that scuttles or slides will pass by me!

"When the fox prowls in hunger for chickens I'm there
No bush tom to savage our kittens would dare
I dispatch mice and rats with one swift killing bite
And I've chased off red-bellies, the brown snakes I'll fight

"I firmly consider my duty to be
Keeping safe and pest-free all of Nimity Lea
Still it's not all that grim, there are moments of fun
Ah! A sweet bogong moth in its season, for one!"

Just for now let's leave Yakka to "thomas cat" dreams
I should mention this farm isn't quite what it seems
There's a secret about it that people daren't speak
That secret is hiding in Warrigal Creek

Go down the back paddock, pick a nice sunny day
You'll soon find the creek as it bubbles away
It seems to be pleasant, and yet--feel the chill!
As if somebody somewhere is wishing you ill....

It was made from old sins that were bitter as ink
It was made from cruel wishes, too evil to think
It was vicious and sly, putrefaction its stink
From the creek bed at midnight it started to slink

By shudders of lightning you'd have seen it that night
As wind whipped the branches, a rude troglodyte
With great bulging muscles, a trail of cold slime
The BUNYIP inched closer, intent on its crime

It would kill not for hunger, not even for sport
It would kill not for profit (of that it knew nought)
But just to obliterate hopeful new lives
Up to the barnyard, this monster contrives

Tucked up in the hayloft, warm tummies abuzz
Six intertwined bundles of soft kitten fuzz
And where is our Yakka? He's out on his rounds
Sniffing out trouble, alert for odd sounds

Deep in his throat starts a low, rumbling growl
Yakka opens his fangs, there's a spit and a snarl
That crescendos and climbs to a full-bodied yowl
His fur's all puffed out and his face all a-scowl

He still hasn't smelled it, but he's up on his toes
He still hasn't seen it, it's just that he knows!
He knows there is trouble out there in the black
His sense are piqued, he's prepared to attack!

Down! It falls on him with the terrible force
Of a mighty flash-flood through a dry watercourse
Who'd have thought it could come on as quickly as that?
But don't write him off yet, Yakka's no "pussy-cat"!

Yakka's thrown on his back, he feels out on a limb
So he seeks with his claws for the shape of the thing
He seeks with his jaws for its vulnerable parts
Using every skerrick of cat martial arts!

But his seeking turns out to be vain exercise
For this is no creature vain groping can 'prize
So gamely he holds on while tossed all around
Pummelled and pounded and flung to the ground

He holds on defiantly past hope of winning
His howling enmeshed with the storm's dreadful dinning
His jaws are latched firm, he's determined as ice
To vanquish this evil whatever the price

Wary and weary, in the mist of next morn
Creeps light to the farmyard: a vision forlorn
Just a few clumps of ginger fur matted with dew
As dawn gives her tears for the Yakka they knew

But from that day, in Warrigal Creek, down to this
There is nothing ill-omened and nothing amiss
You can breathe sweet bush thyme at the start of day
When aubergene platypus velvetly play

And billy-button daisies with innocent grace
Grow profuse near the barn where the Great Fight toook place
But look, there's a marmalade "toasting" his fur
In the sun even now with a satisfied purr:

"I'm Yakka the Fearless, I'm Yakka the Free
I'm Yakka, son of Yakka to the eighth degree
I'm the one and only Yakka of Nimity Lea
And nothing that scuttles or slides will pass by me!--

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