A night in Bree

by Apr 6, 2003Poetry

“It’s raining outside!
We’re cold and we’re wet!”
Four Hobbits pound at the gate,
just after the sun has set.
“Come in, come in!
Get out of the cold!
I shouldn’t be out here myself,
I’m so old!”
The gate keeper said,
throwing open the gate.
The Hobbits needed some food,
They were in such a bad state!
They walk down the pathway,
And around a corner,
Looking for somewhere dry to stay.
They spot and old inn,
The Prancing Pony was its name.
Gandalf had told them he would be there,
Little did they know, he wouldn’t, what a shame!
They went in, took a room,
And sat down for a drink.
Hark! There’s a man in the corner,
His cloak black as ink.
Watching and watching,
The cloaked man stares.
A hobbit falls, a ring flies to his finger,
Gasps arise as he disappears!
You know the rest from here,
So I leave you now.
I’m running out of ideas,
There’s sweat on my brow!
I’ll finish this off later,
In a second part.
In the morning though,
‘Cause I’ll need a fresh start!


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