DARZEE'S CHAUNT
(Sung in honour 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 I weave my music -- so I weave 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.
Hear! I will sing you the praise of the bottle-tailed Rikki,
with eyeballs of red!
(Here Rikki-tikki interrupted, and the rest of the song is lost.)
