I'm going to play a little bit of that.

I'm going to play a little bit of that.

I'm going to play a little bit of that.

I'm going to play a little bit of that.

come around home.

With a song in the distance from a bamboo flute

And the wail from the victims of the trapper's lute

From the elephant's head to the piano key

As the owl bears witness from the acacia tree

The herd migrating in its steady largo, only to end up as the midnight cargo

Dead without war, or without chase, and the hide of the cow as its stretch completes

The poacher man, he comes alone, discredits what's right and wrong

The rain can't wash the blood away from the tusk and bone from the poacher's back

Poacher man, with gun in hand, imposes will on the big game man

No respect for the free and born, he's trying to pull some trash from the rhino's horn

Ongole 'a, Ongole 'a, Ongole 'a, Ongole 'a, Ongole 'a, Ongole 'a, Ongole 'a, Ongole 'a

Ongole 'a, Ongole 'a, Ongole 'a, Ongole 'a, Ongole 'a, Ongole 'a, Ongole 'a, Ongole 'a

Poacher man, you've gone too far, better face up to what you are

Without soul and without pride, it's time to stop tearing this land apart

Poacher man, you've gone in hand, imposes will on the big game man

No respect for the free and born, he's trying to pull some cash from the rhino's horn