Jungle creatures round him cried as their keen eyes did him spy –
this was not his habitat, Birds dropped doo-doo on his hat.
Laughing Monkeys made him cry as his fist shook in the sky,
“I am here to help your land! You don’t seem to understand!”
Then a Toucan said curtly from the shadows of a tree,
“I think, Mister, that you should leave our jungle, leave our wood.
‘Tis your kind who robs from us that which God gave to our trust.
When you’re here then we’re not free. Go back home and leave us be!”
Then cried man in full disgust, angry that they would not trust
his intentions, pure and good, “God gave man your trees for wood!”
Yes, the Toucan saw through him, knew the reason he came in
to their jungle, to their wood: he sought all the wealth he could.
Then a Tiger from the deep made him bleat like frightened sheep;
turning tail and running ‘way, vowing he’d be back some day.
Now that jungle is a farm with big tractors and big barns.
Stopping progress, jungle tried; in the end they had to die.
Now survives the strongest race – that’s the one with human face –
but the human heart is gone as the weak are trampled on.
Tiger, Tiger, burning bright
In the forests of the night,
Burning as the jungle creeps
Into mem’ry – all hearts weep.