There is this place I go, it’s mysteries I must know.
Fourth lunar cycle near, it beckons every year.
With a spirit of adventure, car and trailer loaded I venture.
Westward this place I go to meet old friends I know.
No trees nor mountains there, this place few can compare.
Listen as you draw near, it’s breathing you will hear.
This place holds secrets deep within, the darkness tempts us in.
We’re not the first to venture here, bones and spirits of others still near.
This place now abandoned, to camels, dingoes and wombats remanded.
To seek it’s mysteries is not a chore, this place I know, the Nullarbor.
by Dennis Marsh.