<p><p>(Sung in honor of Rikki-tikki-tavi)<br><br> Singer and tailor am I–<br> Doubled the joys that I know–<br> Proud of my lilt to the sky,<br> Proud of the house that I sew–<br>Over and under, so weave I my music–so weave I the house that I<br> sew.<br><br> Sing to your fledglings again,<br> Mother, oh lift up your head!<br> Evil that plagued us is slain,<br> Death in the garden lies dead.<br>Terror that hid in the roses is impotent–flung on the dung-hill<br> and dead!<br><br> Who has delivered us, who?<br> Tell me his nest and his name.<br> Rikki, the valiant, the true,<br> Tikki, with eyeballs of flame,<br>Rikk-tikki-tikki, the ivory-fanged, the hunter with eyeballs of<br> flame!<br><br> Give him the Thanks of the Birds,<br> Bowing with tail feathers spread!<br> Praise him with nightingale words–<br> Nay, I will praise him instead.<br>Hear! I will sing you the praise of the bottle-tailed Rikki, with<br> eyeballs of red!<br><br> (Here Rikki-tikki interrupted, and the rest of the song is<br>lost.)