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 1