Poem - The Book

Come and read a book with me
About the times of history
The book is worn and torn and old
And many stories will be told
We're sure to read of deeds so bad
And many tales, they will be sad
But yet on things we can depend
There may just be a happy end

We'll read a tale of lazy kings
Who never did a noble thing
They sat in castles, counting gold
And left their subjects in the cold
Whilst wrapped in furs they ruled alone
On their gem-encrusted thrones
They thought too much of precious jewels
This really is a tale of fools

And there'll be tales of battles fought
Against the foe that dark lords brought
The armies of the trolls and orcs
Their legions threatened normal folk
And so the hordes were met in war
A clash of spear, of axe and sword
So many conflicts fought and lost
And who's to count the tragic cost

There's stories, too, of treachery
Or shady folk who tricked and theived
With stalking in the midnight hour
They craved for fame and wanted power
And set in play their wicked plans
So man would fight his fellow man
But loneliness was their reward
It's not a tale to read much more

At last we reach the final page
It tells of quite a different age
A story set by quiet streams
Where two small folk had come with dreams
And over time their home it grew
A place where lived the peaceful few
I think this tale is best of all
I think we'll read a little more

We'll read of homes in sleeping hills
Of verdant fields and watermills
Where quiet hobbits worked their farms
And seldom did folk come to harm
The pages have some pictures too
That paint a quite exquisite view
It's good to read beside the fire
The tales that tell about The Shire