  (Suggested by the claim of a machine-gun team to have annihilated an enemy wire party: no bodies were found however) To-day I killed a tiger near my shack Among the trees: at least, it must have been, Because his hide was yellow, striped with black, And his eyes were green. I crept up close and slung a pointed stone With all my might: I must have hit his head, For there he died without a twitch or groan, And he lay there dead. I expect that he'd escaped from a Wild Beast Show By pulling down his cage with an angry tear; He'd killed and wounded all the people—so He was hiding there. I brought my brother up as quick's I could But there was nothing left when he did come: The tiger's mate was watching in the wood And she'd dragged him home. But, anyhow, I killed him by the shack, 'Cause—listen!—when we hunted in the wood My brother found my pointed stone all black With the clotted blood. |
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