(Sung in honor of Rikki-tikki-tavi)

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, oh 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