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
