"The road goes ever on and on
down from the door where it began
and far ahead the road has gone
now I must follow if I can
Pursuing it with eager (weary) feet
untin it joins a larger way
where many paths and errands meet
and whither then, I cannot say"
An old verse of Elven-lore, told to Frodo Baggins by Gandalf the Gray, when they first knew for sure it was the One Ring.
"Three rings for the elven-kings under the sky
Seven for the dwarf-lords in their halls of stone
Nine for mortal men, doomed to die
One for the Dark Lord on his dark throne
in the land of Mordor where shadows lie
One ring to find them all, one ring to bind them
One ring to rule them all and in the darkness bind them
in the land of Mordor where shadows lie"
A song by Bilbo Baggins, sung by Frodo Baggins, Samwise Gamgee and Peregrin Took as they walk towards Buckland.
Upon the heart the fire is red,
Beneath the roof there is a bed;
But not yet weary are our feet,
Still round the corner we mey meet
A sudden tree or standing stone
That none have seen but we alone.
Tree and flower and leaf and grass,
Let them pass! Let them pass!
Hill and water under sky,
Pass them by! Pass them by!
Still round the corner there may wait
A new road or a secret gate,
And though we pass them by today,
Tomorrow we may come this way
And take the hidden paths that run
Towards the moon or to the sun.
Apple, thorn and nut and Sloe,
Let them go! Let them go!
Sand and stone and pool and dell,
Fare you well! Fare you well!
Home is behind, the world ahead,
And there are many paths to tread
Through shadows to the edge of night,
Until the stars are all a light.
Then world behind and home ahead,
We'll wander back to home and bed.
Mist and twilight, cloud and shade,
Away shall fade! Away shall fade!
Fire and lamp, and meat and bread,
And then to bed! And then to bed!
By the High Elves the same three meet on their road, lead by Gildor, but as Frodo Baggins heard it in English, and not in their elven-tounge.
Snow-white! Snow-white! O Lady clear!
O Queen beyond the Western Seas!
O Light to us that wander here
Amid the world of wowen trees!
Gilthoniel! O Elbereth!
Clear are thy eyes and bright thy breath!
Snow-white! Snow-white!We sing to thee
In a far land beyond the sea.
O stars than in the sunless Year
With shining hand by her were sown,
In windy fields now bright and clear
We see your silver blossom blown!
O Elbereth! Gilthoniel!
We still remember, we who dwell
In this far land beneath the trees,
Thy starlight on the Western Seas.
Sung by Samwise Gamgee and Peregrin Took as they stopped for a lunch break.
Ho! Ho! Ho! to the bottle I go
To heal my heart and drown my woe.
Rain may fall and wind may blow,
And many miles be still to go,
But under a tall tree I will lie,
And let the clouds go sailing by.
By Peregrin Took as he, Frodo Baggins and Samwise Gamgee was taking a bath in Frodos new home in Buckland.
Sin hey! for the bath at close of day
that washes the weary mud away!
A loon is he that will not sing:
O! Water Hot is a noble thing!
O! Sweet is the sound of falling rain,
and the brook that leas from hill to plain;
but better than rain or rippling streams
is Water Hot that smokes and steams!
O! Water cold we may pour at need
down a thirsty throat and be glad indeed;
but better is beer, if drink we lack,
and Water Hot poured down the back.
O! Water is fair that leapes on high
in a fountain white beneath the sky;
but never did fountain sound so sweet
as splashing Hot Water with my feet!
Sung by Meriadoc Brandybuck and Peregrin Took as it was decided that four would walk the way to Rivendell.
Farewell we call to hearth and hall!
Though wind may blow and rain may fall,
We must away ere break of day
Far over wood and mountain tall.
To Rivendell where Elves yet dwell
In glades beneath the misty fell,
Through moor and waste we ride in haste,
And whither then we cannot tell.
With foes ahead, behind us dread,
Beneath the sky shall be our bed,
Until at least our toil be passed,
Our journey done, our errand sped.
We must away! We must away!
We ride before the break of day!
By Frodo Baggins to cheer up the company of four as they wandered through the Old Forest.
O! Wanderers in the shadowed land
despair not! For though dark they stand,
all woods there be must end at least,
and see the open sun go past:
the setting sun, the rising sun,
the day's end, or the day begun.
For east or west all woods must fail.
By Tom Bombadil, the first time he met the Hobbits.
Hey dol! merry dol! ring a dong dillo!
Ring a dong! hop along! fal lal the willow!
Tom Bom, jolly Tom, Tom Bomabadillo!
Hey! Come merry dol! derry dol! My darling!
Light goes the weather-wind and the featheres starling.
Down along under Hill, shining in the sunlight,
Waiting on the doorstep for the cld starlight,
There my pretty lady is, River-woman's daughter,
Slender as the willow-wand, clearer than the water.
Old Tom Bombadil water-lilies bringing
Comes hopping home again. Can you hear him singing?
Hey! Come merry dol! derry dol! and merro-o,
Goldberry, Goldberry, merry yellow berry-o!
Poor old Willow-man, you tuck your roots away!
Tom's in a hurry now. Evening will follow day.
Tom's going home again water-lilies bringing.
Hey! Come derry dol! Can you hear me singing?
By Tom Bombadil once again, as he danced along the road home, after telling the hobbits to follow him.
Hop aling, my little friends, up the Withywindle!
Tom's going on ahead candles for to kindle.
Down the west sinks the Sun: soon you will be groping.
When the night-shadows fall, then the door will open,
Out of the window-panes light will twinkle yellow.
Fear no alder black! Heed no hoary willow!
Fear neither root nor bough! Tom goes on before you.
Hey now! merry dol! We'll be waithing for you!
And as they were reaching his house in the night.
Hey! Come derry dol! Hop along, my hearties!
Hobbits! Ponies all! We are found of parties!
Now let the fun begin! Let us sing together!
By Goldberry, the River-daughter, at the same time.
Now let the song begin! Let us sing together
Of sun, stars, moon and mist, rain and cloudy weather,
Light on the buddling leaf, dew on the feather,
Wind on the open hill, bells on the heather,
Reeds by shady pool, lilies on the water:
Old Tom Bombadil and the River-daughter!
By Frodo Baggins, for Goldberry as he entered her house.
O slender as a willow wand! O clearer than the water!
O rees by the living pool! Fair River-daughter!
O spring-time and summer-time, and spring again after!
O wind on the waterfall, and the leaves' laughter!
By Tom Bombadil, as he was tending the hobbit's horses.
Old Tom Bombadil is a merry fellow;
Bright blue his jacket is, and his boots are yellow.
Tom Bombadil, as an answer to a question of Frodo Baggins.
I had an errand there: gathering water-lilies,
green leaves and lilies white to please my pretty lady,
the last ere the year's end to keep them from the winter,
to flow by her pretty feet till the snows are melted.
Each year at summer's end I go to find them for her,
in a wide pool, deep and clear, far down the Withywindle;
there they open first in Spring and there they linger latest.
By that pool long ago I found the River-daughter,
fair young Goldberry sitting in the rushes.
Sweet was her singing then, and her heart was beating!
And that proved well for you - for now I shall no longer
go down deep again along the forest-water,
not while year is old. Nor shall I be passing
Old Man Willow's house this side of spring-time,
not till the merry spring, when the River-daughter
dances down the withy-path to bathe in the water.
The verse told by Tom Bombadil for the Hobbits to sing if they got trubble, and later repeated by Frodo Baggins as trubble caught them.
Ho! Tom Bombadil, Tom Bombadillo!
By water, wood and hill, by the reed and willow,
By fire, sun and moon, harken now and hear us!
Come, Tom Bmbadil, for our need is near us!
Heard by Frodo Baggins in the Barrow-Downs.
Cold be the hand and heart and bone,
and cold be sleep under stone:
never more to wake on stony bed,
never, till the Sun fails and the Moon is dead.
In the black wind the stars shall die,
and still on gold here let them lie,
till the dark lord lifts his hand
over dead sea and withered land.
By Tom Bombadil as he comes to the hobbits rescue.
Old Tom Bolbadil is a merry fellow.
Bright blue his jacket is, and his boots are yellow.
None has ever cought him yet, for Tom, he is the master:
His songs are stronger songs, and his feet are faster
Get out, you old wight! Vanish in the sunlight!
Shrivel like the cold mist, like the winds go wailing,
Out into the barren lands far beyond the mountains!
Come never here again! Leave your barrow empty!
Lost and forgotten be, darker than the darkness,
Where gates stand for ever shut, till the world is mended.
Wake now my merry lads! Wake and hear me calling!
Warm now my heart and limb! The cold stone is fallen;
Dark door is sanding wide; dead hand is broken.
Night under night is flown, and the Gate is open!
Hey! now! Come hoy now! Whither do you wande?
Up, down, near or far, here, there or yonder?
Sharp-ears, Wise-nose, Swish-tail and Bumpkin,
White-socks my little lad, and old Fatty Lumpkin!
Tom's country ends here: he will not pass the borders.
Tom has his house to mind, and Goldberry is waiting!
By Frodo Baggins, as they had reached the Prancing Pony.
There is and inn, a merry old inn
beneath an old grey hill,
And there they blew a beer so brown
That the Man in the Moon himself came down
one night to drink his fill.
The ostler has a tipsy cat
that plays a five-stringed fiddle;
And up and down he runs his bow,
Now squeeking high, now purring low,
now sawing in the middle.
The landlord keeps a little dog
that is mighty found of jokes;
When there's good cheer among the guests,
He cocks an ear at all the jests
and laughs until he chokes.
They also keep a hornéd cow
as proud as any queen;
But music turns her head like ale,
And makes her wave her tufted tail
and dance upon the green.
And O! the rows of silver dishes
and the store of silver spoons!
For Sunday there's a special pair,
And these they polish up with care
on Saturday afternoons.
The Man in the Moon was drinking deep,
and the cat began to wail;
A dish and a spoon in the table danced
The cow in the garden madly pranced,
and the little dog chaced his tail.
The Man in the Moon took another mug,
and then rolled beneath his chair;
And there he dozed and dreamed of ale,
Till in the sky the stars were pale,
and dawn was in the air.
Then the ostler saud to his tipsy cat:
'The white horses of the Moon,
They neigh and champ their silver bits;
But their master's been and drowned his wits
and the Sun'll be rising soon!'
So the cat on his fiddle played hey-diddle-diddle,
a jig that would wake the dead:
He squeaked and sawed and quickened the tune,
While the landlord shook the Man in the Moon:
'It's after three!' he said.
They rolled the Man slowly up the hill,
and bundled him into the Moon,
While his horses galloped up in rear,
And the cow came capering like a deer,
and a dish ran up with the spoon.
Now quicker the fiddle went deedle-dum-diddle;
the dog began to roar,
The cow and the horses stood on their heads;
The guests all bounded from their beds
and danced upon the floor.
With a ping and a pong the fiddle-strings broke!
the cow jumped over the Moon,
And the little dog laughed to see such fun,
And the Saturday dish went off at a run
with the silver Sunday spoon.
The round Moon rolled behind the hill
as the Sun raised up her head.
She hardly belived her fiery eyes;
For though it was day, to her surprise
they all went back to bed!
Made by Bilbo Baggins, written about Aragorn by Gandalf the Gray in the letter given to Frodo Baggins at the Prancing Pony.
All that is Gold does not glitter,
Not all those who wander are lost;
The old that is strong does not wither,
Deep roots are not reached by the frost.
From ashes a fire shall be woken,
A light from the shadow shall spring;
Renewed shall be blade that was broken,
And crownless again shall be king.
Written long ago in an ancient tongue, translated by Bilbo Baggins and sung by Samwise Gamgee, as the hobbits was headed out of Bree and towards Rivendell with Aragorn.
Gil-galad was an Elven-king.
Of him the harpers sadly sing:
the last whose realm was fair and free
between the mountains and the sea.
His sword was long, his lance was keen,
his shining helm afar was seen;
the countless stars of heaven's field
were mirrored in his silver shield.
But long ago he rode away,
and where he dwelleth none can say;
for into darkness fell his star
in Mordor where the shadows are
By Aragorn as the company of five when they paused for the night by Weathertop.
The leaves were long, the grass was green,
The hemlock-umbels tall and fair,
And in the glade a light was seen
Of stars in shadow shimmering.
Tinúviel was dancing there
To music of a pipe unseen,
And light of stars was in her hair,
And in her rainment glimmering.
There Beren came from mountains cold,
And lost he wandered under leaves,
And where the Elven-river rolled
He walked alone and sorrowing.
He peered between the hemleck-leaves
And saw in wonder lowers of gold
Upon her mantle and her sleeves,
And her hair like shadow following.
Enchantment healed his weary feet
That over hills were doomed to roam;
And forth he hastened, strong and fleet,
And grasped at moonbeams glistening.
Through woven woods in Elvenhome
She lightly fled on dancing feet,
And left him lonely still to roam
In the silent forest listening.
He heard there oft the flying sound
Of feet as light as linden-leaves,
Or music welling underground,
In hidden hollows quavering.
Now withered lay the hemloch-sheaves,
And one by one with sighing sound
Whspering fell the beechen leaves
In the wintry woodland wawering.
He sought her ever, wandering far
Where leaves for years were thickly strewn,
By light of moon and ray of star
In frosty heavens shivering.
Her mantle glinted in the moon,
As on a hill-top high and far
She danced, and her feet was strewn
A mist of silver quivering.
When winter passed, she came again,
And her song released the sudden spring,
Like rising lark, and falling rain,
And melting water bubbling.
He saw the Elven-flowers spring
About her feet, and healed again
He longed by her to dance and sing
Upon the grass untroubling.
Again she fled, but swift he came.
Tinúviel! Tinúviel!
He called her by her Elvish name;
And there she halted listening.
One moment stood she, and a spell
His voice laidd on her: Beren came,
And doom fell on Tinúviel
That in his arms lay glistening.
As Beren looked into her eyes
Within the shadows of her hair,
The trembling starlight of the skies
He saw there mirrored shimmering.
Tinúviel the elven-fair,
Immortal maiden elven-wise,
About him cast her shadowy hair
And arms like silver glimmering.
Long was the way that fate them bore,
O'er stony mountains cold and grey,
Through halls of iron and darkling door,
And woods of nightshade morrowless.
The Sundering Seas between them lay,
And yet at least they meet once more,
And long ago they passed away
In the forrest singing sorrowless.
By Samwise Gamgee, as they sit by the trolls known from Bilbo Baggins' adventures.
Troll sat alone on his seat of stone,
And munched and mumbled on a bare old bone;
For many a year he had gnawed in near,
For mead was hard to come by.
Done by! Gum by!
In a cave in the hills he dwelt alone,
And meat was hard to come by.
Up came Tom with his big boots on.
Said he to Troll: 'Pray, what is yon?
For it looks ike shin o' my nuncle Tim,
As should be a-lyin' in graveyard.
Caveyard! Paveyard!
This many a year since Tim been gone,
And I thought he were lyin' in graveyard.'
'My lad,' said Troll, 'this bone I stole.
But what be bones that lie in a hole?
Thy nuncle was dead as lump o' lead,
Afore I found his shinbone.
Tinbone! Thinbone!
He can spare a share for a poor old troll,
For he doesn't need his shinbone.'
Said Tom: 'I don't see why the likes o' thee
Without axin' leave should go makin' free
With the shank or the shin o' my father's kin;
So hand the old bone over!
Rover! Trover!
Though dead he be, it belongs to he;
So hand the old bone over!'
'For a couple o' pins,' says Troll, and grins,
'I'll eat thee too, and gnaw thy shins.
A bit o' fresh meat will go down sweet!
I'll try my teeth on thee now.
Hee now! See now!
I'm tired of gnawing old bones and skins;
I've a mind to dine on thee now.'
But just as he thought his dinner was caught,
He found his hands had hold of nought.
Before he could mind, Tom slipped behind
And gave him the boot to larn him.
Warn him! Darn him!
A bump o' the boot on the seat, Tom thought,
Would be the way to larn him.
But harder than stone is flesh and bone
Of a troll that sits in the hills alone.
As well set your boot to the mountains root,
For the seat of a troll don't feel it.
Peel it! Heal it!
Old Troll laughed, when he heard Tom groan,
And he knew his toes could feel it.
Tom's leg is game, since home he came,
And his bootless foot is lasting lame;
But troll don't care, and he's still there
With the bone he boned from it's owner.
Doner! Boner!
Troll's old seat is still the same,
And the bone he boned from it's owner.
"Alice"
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