He stalks in his vivid strips
The few steps of his cage,
On pads of velvet quit,
In his quit rage.

He should be lurking in shadow,
sliding through long grass,
Near the water hole
Where the plump deers pass.

He should be snarlinga around houses
At the jungles edge,
Baring his white fangs
terorising the village!

But he is locked in a concrete cage,
His strenth behind bars,
Stalking the length of his cage,
Ignoring visitors.