As the wail died away, Hippi said: 'She has gone from us; never as she was will she return.
Never more as she once did will she chop honey.
Never more with her gunnai dig yams.
She has gone from us; never as she was to return.' As he finished all the women wailed again, and loudest of all the daughter.

Then the old man in the grave said: 'Mussels there are in the creek and plenty, But she who lies here will dig no more.
We shall fish as of old for cod-fish, But she who lies here will beg no more oil, Oil for her hair, she will want no more.' Then again the women wailed.
Old Hippi said, as the other man, in a sort of recitative 'Never again will she use a fire.
Where she goes fires are not.
For she goes to the women, the dead women, And women can make no fires.
Fruit is there in plenty and grass seed, But no birds nor beasts in the heaven of woman.' Again the women wailed, wail after wail.

Then they handed the remaining twigs of Dheal to the men, who laid them on the top of the coffin, then bark again over the twigs, and pine saplings on them, on top some old rugs.
While this was being done the old, old gins danced slowly a corroboree step round the edge of the grave, crooning a Goohnai-wurrai or dirge.
Then the men began to throw in the earth, the oldest male relative of the deceased standing in the grave to guard the body until the earth covered the coffin.

As thud after thud went the earth in, the daughter shrieked and swayed over as if to fall into the grave, but her friend drew her back.

She called 'Mother! mother!' took a sharp stone which was beside her and hit it against her head until the blood gushed out.
They took the stone from her.