A Hobbit I Will Be
(First read at a Green Dragon Friday event July 2023)
I am a hobbit, born and bred,
These things I hold most dear,
The company of good Shire folk,
Brings to my heart good cheer.
An evening at a friendly inn,
With pipeweed and good ale,
To dance with friends to merry tunes,
And maybe hear a tale.
A groaning board, a table spread,
For breakfast lunch or tea,
To fish by lazy Shire streams,
This life will do for me!
Yet know it was not always so,
For when I was quite young,
I heard the minstrel’s siren call,
Was swayed by songs he sung.
He told of heroes, bold and brave,
Of lovers, rudely torn,
Of men’s ambition, dwarven wars,
Of elves, who were Firstborn.
He sang of desert plains that burn,
Of lands that freeze in snow,
Of mountains high and rivers deep,
Dark forests, where few go.
A young lad’s head is easy turned,
I dreamed of ventures bold,
And thought one day it might be me,
Of whom such tales were told.
I bade farewell to kith and kin,
Set forth without a frown,
With youthful stride and full of hope,
I came first to Bree Town.
Such sights and sounds I’d never seen,
I stayed up all night long,
Dancing in a campfire’s light,
With such a giddy throng.
I found out how men may deceive,
With lies and crooked smiles,
I learned how one may sell one’s soul,
Of women and their wiles.
In time my hobbit heart fell sick,
Grown weary of Men’s ways,
I took my pack, new pastures sought,
Where I might spend my days.
I came then up to Thorin’s Hall,
Set midst the ice and snow,
There joined a company of dwarves,
Who venturing would go.
Far we travelled, deep they delved,
In search of gold and treasure,
A half-mad yearning in their eyes,
For riches beyond measure.
In chambers hewn from living rock,
They struck a prosperous seam,
Where dwarven picks and hammers struck,
Rare gems and jewels did gleam.
Enough was there for all to share,
That much was plain to see,
Yet long they fought and argued loud,
On this could not agree.
I left them there still squabbling,
Quite sickened by their greed,
To pack my bag, fresh fields to seek,
Once more I felt the need.
I wandered then for many a mile,
Crossed, mountains, rivers deep,
And came, at last, to Rivendell,
Where elves their peace do keep.
Strange are the ways of elven folk,
Who’ve lived a thousand years,
And sing their songs of what is lost,
For what will come, shed tears.
A year I stayed within those halls,
By beauty oft beguiled,
Yet knew that those who dwelt therein,
Looked on me as a child.
I might have lived my scant years out,
Dug deep in elven lore,
Each day that passed brought gentle ease,
Much like the one before.
Yet hotter runs a hobbit’s blood,
Than that of elven kind,
And so I woke from stuporous sleep,
And left that place behind.
Now swiftly homeward I did wend,
At last, this truth I knew,
The traveller must at last return
To that place where he grew.
The Shire is where I’ll spend my days.
I’m sure you’ll all agree,
So join me as I sing it loud,
‘A hobbit I will be!’.
