Withywindle Valley

- Shelob

Old Man Willow sings a song,
Whispers of evil on the breeze.
Calling gently, "Come along,"
Wind blows softly thru the trees.
Warm sunshine and sleepy haze,
Gossamer wings of butterflies.
Long grey roots, a twisted maze,
Traveller's beware his wicked lies.
Only Bombadil can save the day,
Let them go, you ol' cruel tree,
We don't like this game you play,
Set the little people free!
Tis' now time for you to sleep,
Branches dipping to the water.
I have my promises to keep,
Finding lilies for the river daughter.