My campfire embers greyly glow;
I lie beneath a giant tree,
Whose leaves and twigs plot with the stars
To weave new witchcrafts over me.
The cricket’s rapid “Chack-a-chack!”
Shrills everywhere — I think ’t must be
By “Chack-a-chack” the cricket helps
To weave these witchcrafts over me.
Rex Ingamells. Gumtops, F. W. Preece & Sons, Adelaide, 1935, page 21