Bree was a small village, by right,
At the Crossroads of the Greenway.
Rangers often stopped for the night,
Longbottom Leaf, smoked in old pipes.
Inn of the Prancing Pony was there,
Maids to carry the drinks on a tray.
Aragorn watching for Frodo and friends
Near the wood table, by a blazing fire.
Bread and cheese for supper, little man?
Underhill is my name.
That reminds me of something
Take their ponies to the stable, Bob.
Everyone listens to Mr. Underhill sing.
Ring slips onto finger, he disappears quick,
By all accounts, a most astonishing trick.
Under the table and back out again,
Rare gift, indeed, Strider said, with a nod.