A Journey to Frogmorton
One fine evening in the Shire
A hobbit went collecting logs
To make himself a roaring fire
And roast himself a juicy hog
He made his way deep into woods
Behind him was his trusty dog
But brambles snagged his cloak and hood
His walk became a painful slog
The clouds began to all turn grey
The trees were shrouded in a fog
And soon he found he'd lost his way
In the ever darkening smog
The dampness made his clothes all wet
The water filled his little clogs
The mud covered his trusty pet
His feet squelched in the cloying bog
Now he heard the sound of crickets
And the ribbits of croaking frogs
Then he saw, beyond a thicket
A sight that made him stand agog
A building stood there on the moor
Eager, he broke into a jog
He saw a sign above the door
It was the Inn, The Floating Log!
Inside the Inn was warm and dry
He was served up some local grog
The bar was stocked with stew and pie
A shame the ale tasted of frogs...
The Frog
There is a little frog
He's sitting on a log
And looking rather cold
Don't ever call him toad!
The frog gives out a croak
A ribbit, not a choke
It's time to make his way
And face another day
The frog leaps off the log
Into a squelching bog
He lands straight in a pool
The water is quite cool
He spies a froggy lass
Hiding in some grass
He leaps up very high
So he can catch her eye
The lass is not amused
A frog lad there is too
The frog lad gives a scoff
And chases our frog off!
Now it is time to eat
Some insects are his treat
He munches on a fly
Bet he'd prefer a pie!
The day is almost done
The end of the frog's fun
Above the sky turns red
He swims towards his bed
Farewell then, little frog
He returns home to his log
With one long final leap
He heads off to his sleep!
