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Rudyard Kipling - Darzee`s Chaunt
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Singer and tailor am I—
            Doubled the joys that I know—
          Proud of my lilt to the sky,
            Proud of the house that I sew—
   Over and under, so weave I my music—so weave I the house that 
        I sew.

          Sing to your fledglings again,
            Mother, O lift up your head!
          Evil that plagued us is slain,
            Death in the garden lies dead.
   Terror that hid in the roses is impotent—flung on the dung-hill
        and dead!

          Who hath delivered us, who?
            Tell me his nest and his name.
          Rikki, the valiant, the true,
            Tikki, with eyeballs of flame,
   Rik-tikki-tikki, the ivory-fanged, the Hunter with eyeballs of
        flame.

          Give him the Thanks of the Birds,
            Bowing with tail-feathers spread!
          Praise him in nightingale-words—
            Nay, I will praise him instead.
   I will sing you the praise of the bottle-tailed Rikki with
        eyeballs of red!
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