A gardener with simple aims,
has deeper measure than we know.
Ask him his job and all he claims,
"A gardener with simple aims!"
Not wanting power, glory, fame,
but onward he will ever go.
A gardener with simple aims,
has deeper measure than we know.
He dreams of journeys far beyond
The realm of Shire imaginings;
His friends would say, holding him fond,
"He dreams of journeys far beyond
The edge of maps, but ne'er absconds
His duties, both to town and King."
He dreams of journeys far beyond
The realm of Shire imaginings
How many orcs would it be he slew?
Never once he gave cause to refrain
A friend of Frodo and ever true.
In awe of fireworks red and blue
A simple gardener, no airs, just plain
How many orcs would it be he slew?
Past the Watchers with her light he flew
And all about the orcs lay slain
A friend of Frodo and ever true.
Along the journey his courage grew
His first instinct was not to trust the Dunedain
How many orcs would it be he slew?
To see his master’s hurt would never do
And for a time he bore Isuldur’s Bane
A friend of Frodo and ever true.
The see again the morning dew
The freedom of the Shire he would gain
How many orcs would it be he slew?
A friend of Frodo and ever true.
Huge blocks of stone
Immovable
Yet they were aware
Some dreadful spirit of evil vigilance
abode in them
They knew an enemy
They would forbid his entry
Or his escape
Greatly daring, answering a sudden thought
He drew out the phial of Galadriel
Its white light quickened swiftly
The shadows under the dark arch fled
Slowly he felt their will waver
and crumble into fear
Samwise Gamgee
My dear hobbit.
Sam, my dearest hobbit
Friend of friends.
I do not think
We need give thought
To what comes after this.
What hope is there,
That we shall see the end?
As they stumbled along,
In the dark for oh so long,
Or so it seemed to tired hobbit feet.
As night drew to its end,
The sky grew faint,
With the first grey of morning,
But clouds were over moon and star.
Sam restrained his thoughts,
From rope and sword, and
Sat down at his master’s feet.
He took his master’s hand,
And bent it over.
He did not kiss it,
Though his tears fell upon it.
Samwise Gamgee, my dear hobbit.
‘Well, bless my beard!’ said Gandalf.
‘Sam Gamgee? Now what may you be doing?’
‘Lor bless you, Mr. Gandalf,’ said Sam. ‘Nothing!’
‘How long have you been eavesdropping?’
Gandalf’s eye’s flashed, his brows stuck out like bristles.
‘Eavesdropping, sir? There ain’t no eaves at Bag End.’
Don’t be a fool! What have you heard.’
‘Don’t let him hurt me, sir!’ cried Sam quaking.
Don’t let him turn me into anything unnatural!
‘He won’t hurt you,’ said Frodo laughing,
‘He knows that you mean no harm.
But just answer his question straight away!’
‘Well, sir, I heard about an enemy, and rings,
and dragons, and - and Elves, sir.
Elves, I would dearly love to see them.
‘Take you to see Elves, eh?’ laughed Gandalf.
‘So you heard Mr. Frodo is going away?’
‘I did, sir. That’s why I was upset.’
Said Gandalf, ‘To punish you properly for listening,
You shall go away with Mr. Frodo!’
‘Me, Sir!’ cried Sam, ‘go see Elves! Hooray!”
he shouted, and then burst into tears.
