The rains have come and the river is mean
for the depths and the shallows are crocodile green.
The river is deep and underneath
are a million, trillion, zillion teeth.
And the land is cruel and the river is wide
but the grass will be green on the other side.
The water is cold and foams at their heads
as the crocodiles rise from their hungry beds
and lurch and twist and bite and tear
at skin and bone and hide and hair,
with terrible jaws and great tails tossing
to strike at the heart of the zebra crossing.
The river is green and black and white
and red as the bloodiest battle site.
But dragging its body out of the maul,
the first zebra kicks through the crocodile wall.
And those that are left of a hungry nation
head for the slopes of the great migration.