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 dunghill 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.