Quote:
And the Saturday dish went off at a run
with the silver Sunday spoon
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Oh, you naughty, naughty, NAUGHTY spoon! Taking advantage of a poor lower-class dish like that! He'll figure out in about seventy more miles that you're just stringing him along... Alas, that passion is so short-lived.
So, hmmm, does this poetry foreshadow Sunday-Silver-Arwen running off with Saturday-pottery-Aragorn? Lol!! And what was the fiddle string that broke! And who was the cow? [img]smilies/wink.gif[/img]
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They spoke no more of the small news of the Shire far away; nor of the dark shadows and perils that encompassed them, but of the fair things they had seen in the world together, of the Elves, of the stars, of trees, and the gentle fall of the bright year in the woods.
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