Once upon a time, there was a merry man who’d sing
And dance his days away, no matter what the weather’d bring,
He was a cheerful spirit, with borders of his own,
Without a care, where he would fare no blight there could be sown.
Tom Bombadil was his name of late in Northern parts,
And Goldberry the river nymph he’d taken to his heart.
They lived in bliss, a betrothed pair, as far back as is known,
In a land with unseen borders, together old they’d grown.
In sight of Carn Dûm battlements, with Barrow-wights inside
He saved the Hobbits as they left his land and lovely bride.
No trap was sprung, or song was sung, that Tom was not aware
Of how to sing, as responding, avoiding evil’s snare.
Hear him chortle and watch him hop so merrily along,
A’chorusing in merriment, a happy lilting song,
The simple life was his desire, for him and for his wife,
For any more would be a chore, a weight upon his life.
He never wanted others to bow down to him and his,
If asked, he’d probably wish that others live life as he lived.
Until the time of Men, when Elves began to fade away,
His deathless spirit lingered, ‘til when now none can say.
But now, it seems, he’s gone from history and all its claim,
Yet still he is remembered by those who still remain,
For those of us that know of him still write our silly poems,
Of “Once upon a time...” when the Old Forest was his home.