Ballad of Bag End
There was a lovely hobbit hole, under hill, under tree;
Round its door with bright brass knob and flowerbeds all green.
Many pantries stocked with pastries, the envy of the town.
In this comfort dwelt a hobbit, crazy Baggins of reknown.
Unto him he took a nephew, gaining thus a proper heir
And dismaying others waiting, hoping one day to live there.
Beneath the hole upon the field, Party Tree, all ablaze,
Lit the birthday of old Bilbo; when he left, hopes were raised.
Sackville-Baggins hoped for Bag End, but their plans all were dashed
When they found only a set of silver spoons to them passed.
Through the papers they did glower but they found all was true,
To the owner gave no blessing; curdled milk with their rue.
Long years passing found the nephew planning to leave the Shire.
In the Sackville-Bagginses he quickly found a willing buyer.
At last, at last! Despite the past, Lobelia rejoiced,
And danced an inward jig despite her sour outward voice.
With pomp and circumstance enough to hold the town in sway
Lotho and mum began their reign atop Bag End that day.
Building wealth and great importance; a very highest aim.
Lotho Pimple soon found Big Men, willing to help his reign.
Dark the days that fell upon them, soon he lost all control;
Men rampaging through the Shire-fields, pillaging took its toll.
By the time old Sharkey got there, umbrella'd Lotho's mum
Had been dragged off to the Lockholes for the "crimes" she had done.
Lotho Pimple in his castle, hemmed in by stinking shacks,
Soon succumbed to evil houseguests, there was no turning back.
Such a wreckage of the lovely Bag-End home; garbage heap'd,
Treeless pits where once the taters grew and fat grains were reaped.
When the evil was defeated, by the hand of the heir,
Freed from Lockholes: Sackville-Baggins ragged mum, worse for wear.
To the home of all her scheming, she refused to return
Into hands of honest Frodo, placed the keys. Thus he learned
How beneath her grasping ways, Lobelia repented
Giving him the hole as gift, it wasn't even rented.
With the evil sent a-packing, Bag End soon shone once more,
And the mum was gently lauded; never well-liked before.
The restoration soon begun, with aid of Elven gift,
The lovely hole once more outshone all other verdant drift.
A season passed in happiness, all known rifts annealed
But Frodo grieved beneath no eaves, for he could not be healed.
One autumn day he sailed away, Bad End he left behind;
Not empty hall, no not at all; a gift once more we find.
The fine old hole was filled up full, with children more and more,
For to his own dear Sam he gave the keys to every door.
With passing years it soon was clear that while no Baggins stayed,
There would again at least be one with Frodo for his name.
A name passed on and so much more, all written in a book.
May we all have such a home, and such a blessed look.