We were gathering some humble foods
For our luncheon intended
From a farmer's field where
He had left them unattended
He seems to take much umbrage
To our liberation
Of his muchrooms succulent
Now we need some moderation
Pitchfork high, his voice so raised
Performing much abuse
On me and Pip, poor hungry waifs;
He is sometimes so obtuse!
A hobbit he is, like all of us,
Knowing the love of good food;
He should not mind us sharing them,
On our 'borrowing' he should not brood.
But lo! Here we are a-running
Our lives our greatest fear
And straight into my cousin I run
Good Frodo Baggins dear!