A flickering light
A shadow so bright
A swish of a flame
No gilt no blame
In the shade of tree
Blind to the poachers of three
You see your prey
On a bright summers day
Stalking low
Quietly and slow
To wards your meal
Poachers have a contract to seal
Orange and black
You leap on its back
A gun is sound
Cant even look round
Pain and blood
You lie in the dry mud
Your strong flame dies
You close your eyes
At least you were worth a lot
As killers boil a pot
A bonfire at their camp
Your body near blood still damp
One man makes a joke
He gives you a poke
Another paces
I see their faces
On them I see
None of the sadness there should be
But them I blame
For the death of you TIGER FLAME.
 
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