Grand Order of the Lost Mathom

On the ground a golden blanket drifts in lazy waves
The northern breeze a gentle shiver blows
All the crops already harvested with care
The berries have been picked before the snow
A spell of rain should reach us in the evening
So far away the days of summer sun

But still our Shire home
Brings hope of warmth and comfort
And soon the days of winter will be gone

Inside the Mathom-House in Michel Delving
The sight that met me there was underwhelming
What I saw
Made me “haw”
A shelf of dusty worn-out trinkets
Maltreated by a gang of shifty delinquents
I said, “No”
“This simply will not do at all”, I said

(this is a piece of dog poetry, aka. dogetry. It has been simplified and adapted from Dog to make it easier for hobbits to read)

Awoooooooooo!

Let me tell you a tale of a dog with a tail
One that sought out adventure and life on the trail
She was roaming and running through homesteads and towns
Where the gammers and gaffers all met her with frowns

Awoooooooooo!

Feel the late summer breeze
Sweeping cross the field
Leaves alight in dusk
Golden wonders unsealed

Pick a late lonely berry
Juicy sweetness from the mire
Wonders never letting up
Home in the Shire

So young Milo once felt hungry fer a hearty hobbit meal
And out there in the yard he heard his piglets play and squeal
He put on his leather breeches, singing to the Farmer’s Reel
All prepared ter make both sausages and bacon

It takes a little effort
It makes so little sense
To scale the straight and narrow
To run the wooden fence

Go forth with speed and balance
And you may reach the end
But first you need the courage
The fence post to ascend