(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. 1 Terror that hid in the roses is impotent—flung on the dung-hill and dead! Who has delivered us, who? Tell me his nest and his name. Rikki, the valiant, the true, Tikki, with eyeballs of flame, Rikk-tikki-tikki, the ivory-fanged, the hunter with eyeballs of flame!