Interventionists are coming, interventionists are coming

cries echo through the dusty community

as the army arrive in their chariots
Parents and children race for the sandhills

burying tommy axes and rifela

hiding in abandoned cars along the fence line
One woman ran to the waterhole

hiding her baby in the reeds

dusting her footprints with gumleaf
Other children went and got their cousin

shouting mum you gone rama rama

you should see the clinic
That night the woman went back to the waterhole

leaving her child in the reeds

this time in a basket
In the morning the children return

crying mum you gone rama rama

you should see the doctor
At the clinic I feel her pulse

check her blood pressure

test for diabetes
Staring in my eyes

she whispers quiet Luritja

this boy his name is Moses