Oh! a happy hour with Mowgli in the trees
Sets a little chap a-dreaming for a week.
So, here's to you, Mr. Kipling, and to Mowgli and Old Kaa,
And to her who loved and waited where the Gates of Sorrow are;
For where is brush more potent to paint since Art began
The white love of a Woman and the red blood of a Man.
So, since to us you've given such delight,
We hope that you won't think us quite so bad.
You're all hot sand and ginger, when you write,
But we're sure you're only shamming when you're mad.