If Isengard fires blacken this land,
Hearts will burn with them to ashes and dust;
Cinder and bone sifted by the White Hand,
If Isengard fires blacken this land.
By a counselor’s voice are the flames fanned.
We must fight onward, for this truth we trust:
If Isengard fires blacken this land,
Hearts will burn with them to ashes and dust.
1.
The woodlands groan with fearful rage
As heart’s anger darkens Fangorn;
The warring Ents will set the stage.
The woodlands groan with fearful rage
In Orthanc, Sharku they will cage.
Destruction soon will break in storm.
The woodlands groan with fearful rage
As heart’s anger darkens Fangorn.
2.
These little hobbits, what are they?
In old lists overlooked somehow
Yet long on earth, or so they say.
These little hobbits, what are they
A part of in these distant days
So late in time? We know them now.
These little hobbits, what are they
In old lists? Overlooked somehow.
3.
By root and stone, by leaf and bark,
We’ll turn his fires into smoke;
He’ll rue the day they lit his dark.
By root and stone, by leaf and bark,
Revenge is due for landscape stark
No more shall wood his fires stoke:
By root and stone, by leaf and bark,
We’ll turn his fires into smoke!
- Primula
The Lost
He walks the land looking for them,
Where have they gone?, our long, lost wives.
The years pass slowly, gone, his friend,
He walks the land, looking for them.
To the West, they went, in the end
Cold winds tell no tales, and he sighs.
He walks the land, looking for them,
Where have they gone?, our long, lost wives.
Not Found
Ha room! he said, peering about,
On old lists, your names, are not found.
You could be orcs, tho' that, I doubt,
Ha room! he said, peering about.
Those orcs, I know, are evil louts,
And the discussion went around.
Ha room! he said, peering about,
On old lists, your names, are not found.
Have You Seen Them?
Have you seen the Entwives? He asked,
They would like your pleasant Shire land.
To destroy Isengard is our task,
Have you seen the Entwives?, he asked.
Dark flood waters, fill all the cracks,
Through the lonely ages, we will stand.
Have you seen the Entwives?, he asked,
They would like your pleasant Shire land.
