Of Tooks and Dwarves

Numbered Dwarves a dozen odd

does not bode well, ’tis true

for journey far to darkened hall

on quest for golden grail.

So knock’d upon the mark’d door

yes, each and every one, and

descend’d ‘pon the pantry dear

of the gracious host.

Of Noble blood and Noble breed

was the burglar there.

Though short of stature not

of heart, as the gray one bared.

‘So! Halloa! Come with us

on journey far and near.

Pack your bag and handkerchief

and let’s us out of here!’

‘Oh no my sirs!

No not today!

A hobbit minds his home!

Journeys dreer and places queer

suit not the homely beast.’

So the dozen drew their cloaks

and breached again the door.

And the burglar was forsaken there

fear ‘pon the threshold shore.

But higher blood of braver deed

can not yet be ignored;

when morning came, as it was fey’d

the burglar joined the group;

13 no more but ten and four

as well as he of gray.

So off he went t’were danger lay

and has not yet returned.

Dead or live? Fool or brave?

I sadly cannot know.

But Tooks, they say, as gaffers may,

have fire in their blood.