At Emianga, at the very entrance to the pool, there were living many ljaua women [i.e., totemic ancestresses belonging to the ljaua totem; ljaua is a species of Claytonia, a small plant with fleshy leaves, whose seeds were gathered by the natives for food]. They had sprung into life out of the deep pool itself. The eldest sister emerged first, then came the second eldest, then the middle one, then another sister, and yet another, and so on. Roulbulja was the first to emerge, then came Wolatja, then Lakaka; and finally a second Wolitja emerged, the youngest sister of them all. The women are sitting on the ground, and they begin to wish: “Let us gather up the ljaua seed downstream from here, not far away.” Two of them go; these two shake the plants and bring [the seed] back. They winnow it. The elder sister gives hers [to those who have stayed behind], and the other woman gives hers too. Then all of them grind it. They place the meal-cake [this consists of ground seed mixed with water] in the fire. When they have ground it up, evening comes upon them, and they stretch themselves out.
They rose in the morning. Having risen, a large number of them went downstream, not far away. They gathered seed; they filled their wooden vessels. They brought it back, and they winnowed it. They poured it on a large flat stone, moistened it with water, and ground it, wet with water, into a large wooden dish. They filled the dish to the brim. Then they placed [the cake] in the fire. They lifted it out of the fire. They broke it in pieces—one piece for two of them, another for two more, and so forth. They proceeded to eat. Having eaten their fill, they stretched themselves out to sleep, since the night had risen over them. [In Central Australia the approach of night after sunset is visibly and strikingly heralded in the east by a blue-grey segment of sky, bordered with a rosy band. Night covers the earth as this band and the dark segment bordered by it rise higher and higher. There is no twilight in the European sense.] [Next morning] they went out; they saw it—a huge store of seed. They gathered up this huge store. They made a hollow in the centre of the plot; and having made this hollow, they filled it to the top.
A willy wagtail [woman] had emerged out of the same deep pool. She emerged at the same time as the [other] ljaua women. [She belonged to the ljaua totem like the rest of the Emianga women; she was a father’s sister to the ljaltakalbala serpent, and her name was Detjera (=willy wagtail in the Western Aranda language.] She came in the middle.
The serpent Ljaltakalbala also emerged out of the pool at Emianga. When he was still young he went to Kantowala [a place more than a hundred miles south of Emianga], north-east of Tunga and not far from it, where the [Finke] River takes a bend. There he stayed and grew, and reached full growth. He never wandered very far; he always remained at home; he grew to his full size. Having lived there and lived there, he lay there stretched out over a huge area, a real monster. Back at Emianga the willy wagtail woman spoke: “Listen, I am going to visit our nephew.” The others replied: “By all means, go and see him, and bring back your nephew.” Then the willy wagtail woman went to visit her nephew, who had left the pool as a little red-tailed snake.
The woman rested at Detjerakana [this name means “(place) of the willy wagtails”] and proceeded to gather ljaua seed. She went on again; for it had grown light, and she had risen. She caught sight of her nephew and brought the seed to him in a large wooden dish. Then she proceeded to grind it for him at that spot. Having ground it, she gave him the uncooked meal-cake. In the evening she says: “Listen, let us return to the cooked meal-cakes, to the ripe ljaua seed.” “Very well, I’ll go, first thing in the morning; and I mean it.”
The following morning the ljaltakalbala serpent was lying coiled up when the woman said: “We should set out right away—it’s time for you to get up.” He did not move. He lay there lazily, and the sun was getting quite high. The woman circled around him [as willy wagtails are accustomed to do before diving upon their prey]. She could not rouse him—the serpent was too obstinate. So the woman went further back, and then dived upon him at full speed. She struck his forehead with the palms of both her hands, while the serpent kept on wriggling his head. At last he sent a quiver through the whole of his body and proceeded to glide away at a leisurely pace. He did his gliding to the accompaniment of the following verses:
She is swaying ceaselessly from side to side before his head;
The willy wagtail keeps on pecking at him,
she keeps on pecking at him.
Let him scar the ground as with a stick;
Let him glide along in the snake furrow!
The snake’s tail is hissing through the air;
The broad back of the snake is hissing through the air.
He went along, he crossed the [Finke] River; [after that] he kept continually to the bank without descending into the river bed. Late in the evening he halted. He opened his jaws, and the name of the place is Where-the-snake-yawned (Pmala Ralkaka). On the high ground he stiffened his body and lay there stiffly. The willy wagtail woman, on the other hand, gathered ljaua seed for her nephew. Having gathered it, she brought it home, she winnowed it, she placed it on the grinding stone, she drew water and wetted it. Then she ground it; having ground it, she gave it to the serpent. After she had given it, the snake coiled himself up, glutted. He was lying down, as is told in the well-known verse:
In the serpent hollow may his head gleam black;
Between his two eyes may his head gleam black!
Again the earth grew light, and at early dawn she set out to rouse him. The woman circled around him, and again she could not awaken him. The woman again walks further away, while he is still lying coiled up. Having turned right around, she hits his head as before. He rises. Then the woman, as usual, went on ahead; the serpent continued to glide along behind her in a different furrow.
They went a very great distance. He crossed a river bed [the Hugh River] and then climbed up a range [the James Range]; the name of the place is Where-the-snake-ascended (Pmalintjika). From the top of the pass he listens and hears how the echidna men are singing on their circumcision ground. He waits: “There are many men here.” His aunt, the willy wagtail, goes ahead and tells the echidna men: “Listen, a corpse-devouring serpent has come into the vicinity, you had better watch out for yourselves!” The echidna men say: “We are going to kill him today, hungry as we are for meat, so that we can eat this snake.” The aunt returns to the mountain where she had built a hut for the serpent [today a cave in the mountain is shown as the hut which the willy wag-tail built for her nephew]. Upon arrival she says, “They have been talking about killing you, they have been talking about eating you in their hunger for meat; you had better watch out!”
The serpent answers: “What, have I come here as meat for angry men?” He then placed a bunch of eagles’ feathers into the belt at his back, and shook himself violently: “What, are these the men who are going to kill me?” He went forth in anger: his head remained on the ground motionless, only his sides, his body, and his tail went out. The tail tip, the tail, the lower portion of his body, went forth and turned back in a curve; again [the lower end] went on, again it turned back in a curve, and so forth. Finally, it came to rest [the tail portion of the snake goes out in a series of wriggling curves until the whole party of echidna men has been surrounded; the tip of the tail finishes up against the head of the serpent]. One echidna man rises and attempts to hit the snake with his stick and with his spear. He merely swallows him: stick and all, spear-and all, he disappears down his throat. A further number of men rose up: he swallowed them, complete with all their gear. The rest fled in terror, but the body of the serpent [which had surrounded their camp] frightened them back, and chased them towards the mouth. He ended by swallowing them all. Men, women, children, spears, shields, hairstring pads, spearthrowers—he swallowed everything. The name of the place is Relbila.
The willy wagtail woman alone remained alive. Towards evening she again collected seed, winnowed it and gave it to him, whereupon he gulped it down. Glutted with food, he proceeded to roll about, to toss about as if in pain. From his mouth he split open to the very tip of his tail. Out fell the bones, as well as the shields, the wooden vessels, the spears, and everything else. Then he stretched himself out, after all the bones [of his victims] had fallen out. He now began to sing [charms]. Not a scar remained on him: the flesh of his body became whole again as it had been originally. These were the verses that he chanted:
My tail tip is healing without a scar,
is healing without a scar;
My mouth is healing without a scar,
is healing without a scar.My mouth is healing without a scar,
is healing without a scar;
My mouth is growing whole again,
is growing whole again.
My mouth is growing whole again,
is growing whole again;
My tail tip is growing whole again,
is growing whole again.
When the earth grew bright, he went on without any scars, and advanced in a deep furrow [cutting the deep furrow as he dragged his enormous bulk over the plain], close to Njenkuguna. Before resting time has come, he advances slowly; he continues to advance steadily. Again he proceeds to cross the river bed. He ascends the [Waterhouse] Range: the name of the place as before is Where-the-snake-ascended (Pmalintjika). He coiled himself up at Snake-headgear (=Pmakanta). Having rested here he travels along the eastern bank of the river. In the evening he casts himself down nearby, north of Njenkuguna.
On the following morning he resumes his journey; he keeps on travelling east of the river, he takes no rest. And then the woman looked down upon something: “Listen, there are carpet- snake men over there: you had better make yourself small and creep away quietly.” “Certainly, I’ll go over yonder.” He proceeded like a frightened thing, keeping to the east, still cutting a furrow. When evening descended, he made a halt at Willy Wagtail (Detjeratjera). The woman again went out gathering seed.
In the morning he rose and went uphill; he proceeded to climb over low ridges. He descended on the other side, and then ascended a range. From here he caught sight of something: the yam men were singing at their ceremonies at Iwopataka [this place name means ‘the cobweb covered it’; the place so named was an important yam totemic centre]. They were singing and singing, while he was looking down at them from this hill, whose name is Sire’s Forehead (Kngaritj’ Ulutna): “What a large number of men there are here!” Having seen the men, he changed his course westward; he crossed the creek here, he climbed over a hill. Then his tail tip as before went forth and turned back in a curve, and so forth, till his tail was resting alongside his head. His aunt proceeds to speak thus [to the yam men]: “Attack this red-tailed snake, you who are meat-hungry after living only on yams!” One man went and inspected [the serpent] carefully; he threw his stick at the serpent, but the latter swallowed the stick. He threw a stone, and the latter swallowed the stone. Then he went back to summon his mates. Spearthrowers, spears, sticks, hair-string bands, wooden vessels—all these were swallowed by the snake; the men, too, were swallowed, and so were the women and the children. And then, having gorged his fill, he proceeded to draw long and tired curves on the plain east [of Iwopataka]. At Meat Juice [so-called because the body of the serpent here split open, and the blood, bones, and fat of the dead men were poured out all over the plain] he flung himself down to rest. Then he proceeded to toss about as though in pain. His belly again split open, from his mouth to his tail tip; and the juice and the bones of his victims were poured out in all directions. Again he sang, using the same verses:
My tail tip is healing without a scar,
is healing without a scar;
My mouth is healing without a scar,
is healing without a scar.My tail tip is growing whole again,
is growing whole again;
My mouth is growing whole again,
is growing whole again.
With these verses he made himself whole once more, and his body lost its scars for the second time.
In the morning he again proceeded to glide uphill in a furrow:
Let him scar the ground as with a stick;
Let him glide along in the snake furrow!
He was now rushing along. While rushing along he caught sight of a lalbalanana snake. The ljaltakalbala serpent crept around him in a wide loop. Having climbed up another gully he went ahead, and his aunt, too, travelled up the same gully. Then he grew to his full size again and slithered forward.
He proceeded to glide uphill on a narrow bluff ridge. He was going along ignoring everything, when he caught sight of a second lalbalanana snake at Emianga [this is a different Emianga from the northern place of the same name where the present serpent and the ljaua women had originated]: here there was living a local snake [ancestor]. The ljaltakalbala serpent made himself as small as possible in order to creep further, and thus he went past within a few paces of the lalbalanana snake. From Emianga he went down a river bed; he kept on going downstream past Inenanga; and when evening was falling he stopped at Wooden Dish (Arkultumba). The woman as before shakes down ljaua seed and winnows it thoroughly. She gathers up a grinding stone; she pours the seed on the stone, she wets it with water, she pours it into a dish. Having ground it, she offers it to her nephew: holding it forward she places herself before him so that her nephew can drink the gruel.
Then she saw that the earth had grown bright: in the morning she desired to resume the journey. As before, the woman encircled him and slapped him. “We shall have to get away: the next place is a good distance from here.” The aunt went ahead while he rose and slithered along behind. Again he follows the creek bed. He takes the wrong direction: soon he sees something : “Why, we are right up against the camp of our cousins!” [They have come upon the home of the emu ancestors, who as Paltara-Knguarea men are cross-cousins by class to the serpent.] Having caught sight of them, he climbs up on the bank. He ascends to the top of the hill and goes straight north from here. On top of the hill he stopped; he coiled himself up among heaps of smooth stones. His aunt again shook down seed in the evening. Again she gathered up a grinding stone and winnowed the seed as before. She made a hollow in the ground to receive a wooden vessel, ground the seed into this vessel, and having filled the vessel, gave it to him. Having drunk and drunk, he pushed the vessel away for his aunt to take from him. Then he went to sleep.
The earth was growing bright. “Let us hurry away again!” As before she slapped him and roused him: “Get up, and let us move on!” He resumed his journey and went over the stony gravel without descending to soft ground. He made a path for himself, he made a saddle over the range. He stopped, still on the gravel, and coiled himself up. Evening came. Again she gave him seed, having ground it into a vessel and having filled the vessel. During the night he lay in a deep sleep.
The sun rose over him. Again she made a hollow, and ground more seed at daybreak into the vessel till the sun had risen fairly high. Again she had to slap him for a long time. Then the aunt went on ahead, and he began to glide forward, slipping down into the creek bed. Without a move in his body he lay in the creek: only his neck and head shot out westward, and he yawned. After lying motionless, he turned right about and faced east- wards; his head alone shot out. Having yawned a second time [there are two places here called ‘Where-the-serpent-yawned’ (Pmala Ralkaka), one on the eastern and one on the western bank of the creek], he now turned his head around once more and slithered uphill, still following the creek bed. He kept on slithering uphill, keeping always in the creek bed, going directly north. He climbed up in a hurry. He halted once more. Having left him here, his aunt went on and built him a brush shelter. In this brush shelter he began to coil himself up. Leaving him here his aunt went on; she went on to Emianga. She looked down at the ljaua women. She flew down.
The willy wagtail woman came from the south. She left the ljaltakalbala serpent—huge like a desert oak—behind at Ilintjintja, south of Emianga and not far away, so that he could stay in a cave [i.e., a cave today represents the original brush shelter that the willy wagtail woman built for the serpent]. She burst upon [the ljaua women]: “Your nephew yonder has arrived—a devourer of corpses, a devourer of dead men, a creature that swallows everything.” The willy wagtail went on further. The willy wagtail saw the hollows where the women had been gathering seed. The willy wagtail ordered them: “Grind up seed while I fly back to invite your nephew along.” They ground it—a huge meal-cake about ten yards across. They placed it in the fire; they raised it up.
While they were still grinding it, the willy wagtail gave the following message to the serpent: “I have invited you to eat what your aunts have gathered.” Then the serpent placed a bunch of feathers in the belt behind his back, and he grew angry with a fierce rage [the myth offers no explanation for the treacherous rage of the serpent].
They lifted the meal-cake out of the fire, but it fell to pieces and turned to dust [because the women who had made it were doomed to die immediately afterwards]. He rushed at them, the [willy wagtail] woman still going before him. His aunt told him to lie down near by: “Hit this red-tailed snake, you who are meat-hungry, so that you may have food.” [This is an anxious instruction to the ljaua women to kill the serpent, which has suddenly grown as dangerous to all of the them as to those whom it destroyed earlier in its journey.] At these words one woman approached him with her stick. The serpent pushed her away fiercely: he swallowed the woman together with her stick. After that the willy wagtail fled in terror and climbed to the top of the mountain.
He swallowed a second woman. A few others rushed at him with their sticks; and these, too, went down his throat. Ten more women advanced, but he swallowed them. The rest fled in terror down the creek bed; but he forced them back [with his encircling body]; and they, too, were swallowed. Then he cast himself down glutted, stretched out to his full length. But the heart of the willy wagtail woman had now become incensed against her nephew.
She came dancing down on one leg only, holding her wooden dish in her right hand, while he was lying there motionless. The woman hurled [her dish] at the eyeball of her nephew. The serpent darted up, but could not see her with his surprised eyes. His aunt had rushed away again in terror, for her nephew had gathered up everything right down to the sticks when he encircled like a whirlwind the women who had been his aunts. The willy wagtail entered into a cave, into a very narrow one. Her nephew rose and towered upwards. Right in the very centre of the deep pool [the deep mountain pool that exists at Emianga today; but at the time of the myth there was no water in this hollow, which had been up to that time the camp of the ljaua women] he was standing upright, his shield held behind his back. Having risen up, he lowered his body again; for he could not find the willy wagtail. Then he went down into the pool itself for ever. He coiled himself up, his shield placed over his back. He went down for ever. But [first] he brought forth his vomit; he vomited at the sacred cave and spat out as tjurunga the bodies of the [ljaua] women. [This explains why the tjurunga-bodies of the ljaua women are still shown today in the sacred cave at Emianga. Emianga is a real place on the northern foot of the Central McDonnel Range, about thirty miles west-northwest of Alice Springs in the Northern Territory of Australia. The particular native tribal/language group to which this myth belonged was Northern Aranda; the collector and translator was T(heodor) G(eorge) H(enry) Strehlow, who collected this piece in the mid-twentieth century and published it in 1971.]
In the crooked gorge* may his head gleam black;
In the serpent lake may his head gleam black!*[A gorge, crooked like a snake’s track in sand, leads to the deep pool of Emianga, into which the ljaltakalbala serpent sank at the end of his last journey.]Into the serpent lake may he glide down;
Into the serpent hollow may he glide down!The ripening ljaua plant is heavy with seed;
The breasts of the ljaua plant are heavy with seed,
are heavy with seed.The breasts of the ljaua plant are full
and ready to burst;
The breasts of the ljaua plant are heavy with seed,
are heavy with seed.In the decaying leafage the male ljaua plants
are heavy with seed;
They are heavy with seed, they are heavy with seed.The forks of the ljaua plants are reddening with the seed;
The forks of the Idea plants are casting down their seed.It is being poured out in profusion,
On the hard ground [it is being poured out in profusion].The forks of the ljaua plants are rising upwards again,
From the hard ground [the forks of the ljaua plants
are rising upwards again].
May the seed turn black as the night!
May [the light of] the sky scorch black the forks
of the plants!Lo! the great alkngarintja chief!*
Let him throw open wide his forks!*[This verse is an invocation to the alkngarintja chief of the ljaua women to scatter his seeds far and wide; the alkngarintja chief is a huge ljaua plant with many forks.]She is swaying ceaselessly from side to side
before his head;
The willy wagtail keeps on pecking at him,
she keeps on pecking at him.The willy wagtail keeps on flitting around him,
she keeps on flitting around him;
The willy wagtail keeps on pecking at him,
she keeps on pecking at him.Let him scar the ground as with a stick;
Let him glide along in the snake furrow!The snake’s tail is hissing through the air;
The broad back [of the snake] is hissing through the air.In the serpent hollow may his head gleam black;
Between his two eyes may his head gleam black!“My tail tip is healing without a scar,
is healing without a scar;
My mouth is healing without a scar,
is healing without a scar.”“My mouth is healing without a scar,
is healing without a scar;
My mouth is growing whole again,
is growing whole again.”“My mouth is growing whole again,
is growing whole again;
My tail tip is growing whole again,
is growing whole again.”In his snake furrow let him hiss through the air;
Let his broad back hiss through the air!He is shrinking in size, he is shrinking in size,
To a baby snake, to a baby snake.In the winding gully may his head gleam black;
In the serpent lake may his head gleam black!Into the winding gully may he slither down;
Into the serpent lake may he slither down!Into the crooked gorge may he slither down;
Into the serpent lake may he slither down!In the crooked gorge may his head gleam black;
In the serpent lake may his head gleam black!
A comparison between the Emianga Myth and its song reveals a number of interesting differences.
(i) The Emianga Myth carefully and with utmost exactness lists all places which witnessed the actions of the ljaua women and of the ljaltakalbala serpent. To us [those of European culture] such intimate geographical details may seem unimportant or even boring; but for the natives the complete list of place-names given in each myth is of primary practical importance. A man’s personal totem is fixed by the accident of his conception site; for the conception site—the place where his mother first realized that she had become pregnant—is the place where the totemic ancestor is believed to have first entered the body of the mother in order to be reincarnated as a human being. There is no hill, creek, rockhole, plain or other natural feature in the Central Australian landscape that is not mentioned in one of the numerous myths which are treasured by each native group. Every man’s genealogy has, as it were, been imprinted into the countryside; and the myth which mentions the name of his own conception-site may be regarded as the birth certificate which entitles him to his share of the religious ceremonies of his group, and as one of the legal ‘documents’ which define his social standing in his own community. It is because the myths are regarded as valid documentary evidence that all actions of the totemic ancestors and all places visited by them must be remembered in such detail; and I have quoted the journey of the serpent ancestor in full, in spite of the obvious risk of boring readers who have no knowledge of any of the places mentioned in the story. None of these places are described graphically in the myth: in the old days every native listener hearing the Emianga Myth would already have possessed personal knowledge of the localities traversed by the ljaltakalbala serpent.
The song, though it contains no geographical information by way of place-names, does give a few scenic details. Thus the pmara kutata, the everlasting home, whence both the serpent and the ljaua women had sprung into life, is briefly described in the verses which sing of the crooked gorge that leads down into the deep haunted pool in the mountains. The scenery of the pmara kutata seems to have been described either briefly or at considerable length in most of the aboriginal songs. In the Ilbalintja Song there are a number of couplets relating to the soak and to the surrounding country; in the Emianga Song both the gorge and the haunted pool are mentioned.
(ii) The myth details each action, however unimportant, on the part of the totemic ancestors figuring in it. Repetition, to the point of almost nauseating satiety, does not irritate a native listener. The myth is regarded as an historical, religious, and legal screed, giving a minute account of everything done by the totemic ancestors. What they did often acts as a pattern for the natives’ own conduct today. The commemorative ceremonies in honour of the ancestors always depict them at the places mentioned in the myths; and in these ceremonies the main actors seek to represent symbolically what the ancestors did at the beginning of time. In addition, the acts of the ancestors have given rise to most of the place-names in Central Australia. It will be quite clear to the reader, after reading the Emianga Myth, whence places such as Pmalintjika, Pmala Ralkaka, Nkaritjoa, and others got their appellations. On the other hand, it must not be forgotten that many ancient and very important totemic centres—such as the various pmara kutata whence the ancestors first originated often have names which are very difficult to interpret. This is perhaps indicative of their special antiquity: many of these particular names may incorporate obsolete words, or words whose forms have been changed considerably by many centuries of constant usage.
Very few of the place-names mentioned in the myths have found their way into the songs. Neither the Ilbalintja Song nor the Emianga Song furnishes any examples of such couplets. The explanation may be that the myth and its song are largely complementary in character, and that it would have meant in most cases a needless duplication to embody place-names in verse. The tjurunga_retnja, the “secret name” of a place is very frequently a couplet which describes the scenic setting of a sacred site without actually naming it.
(iii) The myth must tell a coherent and intelligible story which fits in with the scenery of the countryside. It must also fit in with other myths and recognize the ceremonial rights of totemic centres belonging to other totemic clans. Twice in the Emianga Myth we are told of the pmara kutata of other clans where the serpent swallowed all local men and women. In this way the echidna people of Relbila and the yam people of Iwopataka were destroyed. But Relbila and Iwopataka are important totemic centres in their own right. The bodies of the local ancestors would, if saved from destruction by the serpent, have turned normally into rocks, trees, and tjurunga stones and sticks. Accordingly the Emianga Myth takes pains to explain that after both monstrous feasts the ljaltakalbala serpent split open from head to tail, so that all the bones and all the chattels of the ‘dead’ local ancestors were in fact left at their own pmara kutata. They thus became tjurunga sticks and stones after all; and it was from these sacred objects that in later times the members of the local totemic clans were believed to have become reincarnated. Similarly, the serpent brought up the ‘dead’ ljaua women and disgorged them at the sacred cave of Emianga, so that their bodies—in the form of tjurunga stones—could be used in the local ljaua increase ceremonies by members of the Emianga totemic clan.
The song ignores explanatory episodes of this type. Its verses refer almost exclusively to those actions of the ancestors that have either a ceremonial or a magical value.
(iv) The myths often describe at considerable length the simple everyday occupations of the natives themselves and the habits of their totem animals. To us passages which relate how a native woman gathers and prepares ljaua seed may seem unimportant and over-lengthy; the native listener takes pleasure in the fact that his own supernatural ancestors carried out their daily tasks in exactly the same routine fashion that has become accepted in his own life. The native, again, has had to study the ways of animals very closely in his own hunting existence; and accurate descriptions of the habits of animals never fail to arouse great and appreciative interest on the part of native listeners.
(v) If we now turn to the Emianga Song, we can see immediately that the aboriginal verse-composers were influenced largely by ceremonial and magical considerations.
The first section deals with the pmara kutata, the everlasting home. It furnishes a brief description of the haunted pool of Emianga. The two verses given here have been taken from the set relating to the ljaltakalbala serpent. This monster even today is still believed to be lying at the bottom of the deep mountain pool, ready to destroy any rash human beings that may venture to approach its resting place.
The verses in the second section, which deals with the ljaua women, have a magical purpose. They are sung normally while the tjurunga slabs—which are the changed immortal bodies of these women—are being rubbed in an increase ceremony. These verses are the ‘names’ of the actual ljaua tjurunga treasured by the Emianga clan. It is believed that the powerful magic of these verses, coupled with the symbolical action of rubbing the tjurunga slabs, will bring forth an abundance of ljaua seed each wet season. The verses make no mention of the original ljaua women; they refer only to the ljaua plants themselves... .
From these remarks it should be clear why descriptive, narrative, or lyrical poetry, in our own modern European meanings of those words, is rarely to be found in Central Australia. Poetry there is still formally shackled to the dance and to the rhythm of the song; and in content the whole composite art form is linked inseparably with magic and religion. ‘Poetry’ in Central Australia is therefore circumscribed by much narrower limits than prose: a very large number of couplets have some functional value, a definite association with magic or with ritual. Action, anecdotes, and amusing episodes belong to the realm of the prose myth; and a skilful story-teller is permitted a considerable amount of licence in elaborating by means of amusing dialogue those parts of a myth which lend themselves to such additions. Only he must never insert any new facts or make any vital alterations to the story. The myth is an historical, legal, and religious statement; and it must always be treated as such even by the oldest and most privileged narrator of myths.