(sung in honour of Rikki-Tikki-Tavi)
Doubled the joys that I know
Proud of my lilt through 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.
Mother, oh, lift up your head!
Evil that plagues us is slain,
Death in the garden lies dead.
Terror that hid in the roses is impotent-flung on the
dung-hill and dead!
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.
Blowing with tail-feathers spread!
Praise him with nightingale-words
Nay, I will praise him instead.
Hear! I will sing you the praise of the bottle-tailed Rikki,
with eye-balls of red!
(Here Rikki-tikki interrupted, and the rest of the song is lost.)
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