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I would say no poem from Tolkien has both a more profound or chilling effect than...
Three Rings for the Elven-kings under the sky,
Seven for the Dwarf-lords in their halls of stone,
Nine for Mortal Men doomed to die,
One for the Dark Lord on his dark throne
In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie.
One Ring to rule them all, One Ring to find them,
One Ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them
In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie.
I will never forget it, nor the translation of the last few lines into Black Speech...
Ash nazg durbatulűk, ash nazg gimbatul,
Ash nazg thrakatulűk agh burzum-ishi krimpatul.
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And your little sister's immaculate virginity wings away on the bony shoulders of a young horse named George who stole surreptitiously into her geography revision.
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