The dead marshes – smeagol

by Mar 28, 2003Poetry

Faces. Faces and candles, precious.
Yes, precious, the candles are lit
Lit candles. Hobbitses mut beware the lit candles,
Blow blow blow in the wind, precious,
Yessss, they does precious,
They are faces, faces of dead elves
And men
And orcsess, preciuossss.
Dead. All dead.

Nice little hobitsess mustn’t go into the water,
No precious, or nice fat hobbits
Will light little candles of their own.
We dosent like the marsh.
The marsh is nasty to us
Yes preciousssssss. Nasty to poor Smeagol.
Nice Smeagol. Nice hobbits follow nice smeagol.
Nice master. Nice hobbitsesss, precious.

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