An Old Hobbit Song

Just a bit of fun.

 

Translation –

When the hills grow steep and bare,
when lavender blooms curl and die,
when winter cold stalks all to soon,
we’ll hear the goblin horde’s foul cry.

They’ll come with hammers.
They’ll come with blades.
They’ll come to take the earth we till
unless each lad and each small lass
do as they’re told –
good hobbit boys, and fair hobbit girls.

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