On soft and padded tiger's feet,
under moon, beside the creek,
old man-slayer is known to creep.
where the brook gives bubbling speech.
Who's never known a cobbled street,
born upon the mountain's peak,
lives in the valley's shadows deep—
city men here rarely reach.
And man never a man should eat:
man, his flesh, he'll always seek.
No more a man, new forms he'll reap.
Man no more this law he breech.
Tale Told 