- Shelob

His youth seemed everlasting
Tho' he felt 'stretched' as a bit of
Butter over too much bread

On his 111th birthday, rockets blasting
Friends celebrating with gifts of love
In songs and poetry, much was said

We listened to the tales of your journey
With the Wizard and Dwarves, so long ago
Bag End full of 'golden' treasure, we believe

And yet, as Lobelia turns the key
To your little hobbit hole, we know
That, best friends, you would not deceive

A puff of smoke, a last good-bye
You disappear into thin air
Your footsteps echo down the halls

So sorry to see you go, we cry
Though we shall not despair
For you live within, Rivendell's fair walls