Darzee’s Chaunt
Sung in honor of Rikki-tikki-tavi
Singer and tailor am I—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.
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 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 with 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.)