[Untitled poem]

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[page 26] Scott McMullen & Peter Finkle: Through the old forest came three hole dwellers, Hobbits by name who live in warm cellars; And told tall tales the whole day long To keep their high spirits going. Flowing Glowing They tried with might despite their fright To keep their high spirits going. Old Bombadil sat beside the tree, With sweet Goldberry upon his knee; He, sang soft words into her ear, To show how much he loved her Moved her Soothed her He sang a song of days bygone To show how much he loved her. Then Old Man Willow the hobbits sat by, To Take a nap though noon was nigh; For his spell upon them he had cast, And soon would them encapture. Trap-sure Snap-sure. An extremely tricky old tree was he And a capture sent him into rapture. So Frodo took the ring to Doom, Though nearly caught in Shelob's loom; And halfling hobbits are folk who are Not soon to be forgot. Nor taught Nor fought And halfling hobbits are folk who are Not soon to be forgot.

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