Poor Smeagol Harms Not Master

-Primula

Inspired by the patterning of Tom O'Bedlam's Song, traditional from the 13th century

A gollum in my gullet
As I gulp my gangreous gainings,
I'll seeking take or missing make
Your restless sleep a-faining -
For I need a ring of metal
To soothe my soul's betrayal,
And in my grasp I long to clasp
My own pure golden grail.
And I do cry: Listen! Care,
More careful, must move faster!
Come hobbits now, be not afraid,
Poor Smeagol harms not Master.

Through Marches took we, harshly,
All the moanings merely madness;
The whispers call though often fall
To bickering and sadness -
I will find the way of mazes,
And nearest behold flickering;
They do not hear the voice so near,
Inside my being snickering.
And I do cry: Listen! Care,
More careful, must move faster!
Come hobbits now, be not afraid,
Poor Smeagol harms not Master.

When I show the shadowed shortcut,
And the silent stoneway sleeping,
A moment's doubt I'll not get out
By nimbleness or weeping,
But desire upon a chain hangs,
A slender threaded treasure,
The price be paid unto the maid
That I might at last know pleasure.
And I do cry: Listen! Care,
More careful, must move faster!
Come hobbits now, be not afraid,
Poor Smeagol harms not Master.