There once was a young Baggins heir
Like his uncle, he hatched our some dares
With adventures racking
He also was cracking
And the two of them made quite a pair.
There once was a youngster of fifty
Who thought grand adventures were nifty
But after just ages
Of crawling through pages
He wished Tolkien's words were more thrifty.
A hobbit whose task was a ringer
Was sent out as jewelry flinger
But he did it too slow
And forgot to let go
So he flung both the ring and his finger.
When a hobbit with bright rosy cheek
With Butterbur shelter did seek
He found to his dread
Mat and bolster in bed
Would be whacked into shreds, goodness, eek!
A Baggins once woke in the night
To the grasping of dark barrow-wight.
But taking a stand,
He hewed off its hand
And soon set that wight into flight!