In times of yore
Nature hosted gods
Rivers themselves
Called men to worship
We’re yet to tell
The envoy from the king
The great green gray reptile
Crocodile, is one himself
He’s fed fresh cattle carcass
Or perhaps he’s proxy feeder
For the god of solitude
Tides are deadly
So villagers were appeasing
The surfer rides the wave
Rising on to fame on account of some god
He’s conqueror of fear
Whilst his fellows turn fanatics
Thrilled they’ve found a star
The famed croc though
Is neither handsome nor sovereign
Hippo himself is nightmare
Though as king of the pool
No one brings him food