Tiger’s Lullaby
The Weeping Willow sat the children down,
Even the babies made not a sound.
Her thin branches swayed with the wind,
And so her lullaby to the young did begin.
She danced a dance of tragedy,
and told them a story lost of glee.
She sung the tale of a tiger’s fur
and how it was stolen by an evil cur.
He prowls the jungle crafty as a cat,
collecting pelts as the cat catches the rat.
With eyes black as his heart, like shadows,
his gaze could freeze you to your marrow.
The little cub strayed from his mother’s side,
the poacher saw his chance and quickened his stride.
He stole the cub in dead of night,
its mother never knowing of its fright.
The song now over, the Willow done her dance,
the children still silent, as if in a trance.
For they now knew, should they stray just too far,
the poacher will come for them, sure as the stars.
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