It was on Strzelecki stock route at a homestead by the CreekThis old and withered bushman we chanced upon to meet. He looked old and he looked wirey, he looked old and he looked dry, We had travelled down Strzelecki, the track was bad and rough, when we come to Murti Murti, we had nearly had enough, we were almost out of tucker; the tea and coffee were all gone. we lived on big fat lizards and a diet of nardoo scone. Along Strzelecki waterholes, the shags were quite a few,so, we called a caught a couple and cooked them, and turned them into a Stew.we told the grizzled old timer of our Tucker plain and good, he filled his pipe and nodded and said” he understood “ We asked the ancient bushman who took his pipe out of his mouth “will this diet harm us as we are from the South?Of course, it will not harm you, you cannot come to strive, why look at me, fit as a fiddle, I've been on it all me life, Just how old was he, three score years and ten?he looked old, and he looked withered, as we gazed upon him then, “Been eatin these things all me life, he looked old, and he looked clam,“Come Christmas time I'll be twenty-three and it ain't done me no harm, by David Thompson 1974