Our hero, Frodo Blackaggins and faithful servant, Sam Gamdrick, disguised in orc armour, have made good their escape from the troops of Mordor and lie hidden in a shallow pit on the plains of Gorgoroth.
Frodo: All right, so, what do we do now?
Sam: Can I do my poem?
Frodo: How hurt would you be if I gave the honest answer, which is "No, I'd rather french-kiss a Balrog"?
Sam: So would I, sir!
Frodo: *sighs* All right. Fire away, Sam.
Sam: "Hear the song of the ring / The ring's a horrid thing / So I sing sing sing / ding-a-ling-a-ling."
Frodo: Yes. Well, it started badly, it tailed off a little in the middle, and the less said about the end, the better. But, apart from that, excellent!
Sam: Oh, shall I do another one, then, sir?
Frodo: No -- we wouldn't want to exhaust you.
Sam: No, don't worry; I could go on all night.
Frodo: Not with Sting through your neck, you couldn't!
Sam: This one is called "Mt Doom."
Frodo: Oh, spiffing! Yes, let's hear that!
Sam: "Doom doom doom doom / Doom doom doom / DOOM DOOM, DOOM DOOM--
Frodo: "DOOM DOOM DOOM"?
Sam: How did you guess, sir?
Frodo: I'm sorry, I think I've got to get out of here!!!
Sam: Well, I have a cunning plan, sir.
Frodo: All right, Sam -- for old time's sake. A subtle and cunning one?
Sam: Yes, sir.
Frodo: As subtle as a subtle thing with a particularly good reason for being subtle?
Sam: Yes, sir.
Frodo: As cunning as an Uruk-hai who's just been appointed Lieutenant of Cunning at the Tower of Barad-dûr?
Sam: Yes, sir.
Frodo: This wouldn't be the sort of cunning and subtle plan that involves marching across the plains of Gorgoroth, strolling calmly into the Crack of Doom and announcing "I'm here to destroy the ring, you fiery-eyed nincompoop!", would it?
Sam: Why yes, sir. That's eerily spooky, sir!
Frodo: *heavy sigh* Oh, Iluvatar!
