Jungle Floor - Brothertiger

One moment past our bodies cast

No shadow on the plain;

Now clear and black they stride our track

And we run home again

In morning-hush, each rock and bush

Stands hard, and high, and raw:

Then give the Call: «Good rest to all

That keep the Jungle Law!»

The dew is dried that drenched our hide

Or washed about our way;

And where we drank, the puddled bank

Is crisping into clay

The traitor Dark gives up each mark

Of stretched or hooded claw:

Then hear the Call: «Good rest to all

That keep the Jungle Law!»