Strange that no one has thought of it before...

[HerenIstarion]

this one happens to be one of my favs too :

The Lonely Troll he sat on a stone
and sang a mournful lay:
'O why, O why must I live on my own
in the hills of Faraway?
My folk are gone beyond recall
and take no thought of me;
alone I'm left, the last of all
from Weathertop to the Sea'.

'I steal no gold, I drink no beer,
I eat no kind of meat;
but People slam their doors in fear,
whenever they hear my feet.
O how I wish that they were neat,
and my hands were not so rough!
Yet my heart is soft, my smile is sweet,
and my cooking good enough.'

'Come, come!' he thought, 'this will not do!
I must go and find a friend;
a-walking soft I'll wander through
the Shire from end to end'.
Down he went, and he walked all night
with his feet in boots of fur;
to Delving he came in the morning light,
when folk were just astir.

He looked around, and who did he meet
but old Mrs. Bunce and all
with umbrella and basket walking the street;
and he smiled and stopped to call:
'Good morning, ma'am! Good day to you!
I hope I find you well?'
But she dropped umbrella and basket too,
and yelled a frightful yell.

Old Pott the Mayor was strolling near;
when he heard that awful sound,
he turned all purple and pink with fear,
and dived down underground.
The Lonely Troll was hurt and sad:
'Don't go!' he gently said,
but old Mrs. Bunce ran home like mad
and hid beneath her bed.

The Troll went on to the market-place
and peeped above the stalls;
the sheep went wild when they saw his face,
and the geese flew over the walls.
Old Farmer Hogg he spilled his ale,
Bill Butcher threw a knife,
and Grip his dog, he turned his tail
and ran to save his life.

The old Troll sadly sat and wept
outside the Lockholes gate,
and Perry-the-Winkle up he crept
and patted him on the pate.
'O why do you weep, you great big lump?
You're better outside than in!'
He gave the Troll a friendly thump,
and laughed to see him grin.

'O Perry-the-Winkle boy', he cried,
'come, you're the lad for me!
Now if you're willing to take a ride,
I'll carry you home to tea'.
He jumped on his back and held on tight,
and 'Off you go!' said he;
and the Winkle had a feast that night,
and sat on the old Troll's knee.

There were pikelets, there was buttered toast,
and jam, and cream, and cake,
and the Winkle strove to eat the most,
though his buttons all should break.
The kettle sang, the fire was hot,
the pot was large and brown,
and the Winkle tried to drink the lot,
in tea though he should drown.

When full and tight were coat and skin,
they rested without speech,
till the old Troll said: 'I'll now begin
the baker's art to teach,
the making of beautiful cramsome bread,
of bannocks light and brown;
and then you can sleep on a heather-bed
with pillows of owlets' down'.

'Young Winkle, where've you been?' they said.
'I've been to a fulsome tea,
and I feel so fat, for I have fed
on cramsome bread', said he.
'But where, my lad, in the Shire was that?
Or out in Bree?' said they.
But Winkle he up and answered flat:
'I aint a-going to say'.

'But I know where', said Peeping Jack,
'I watched him ride away:
he went upon the old Troll's back
to the hills of Faraway'.
Then all the People went with a will,
by pony, cart, or moke,
until they came to a house in a hill
and saw a chimney smoke.

They hammered upon the old Troll's door.
'A beautiful cramsome cake
O bake for us, please, or two, or more;
O bake!' they cried, 'O bake!'
'Go home, go home!' the old Troll said.
'I never invited you.
Only on Thursdays I bake my bread,
and only for a few'.

'Go home! Go home! There's some mistake.
My house is far too small;
and I've no pikelets, cream, or cake:
the Winkle has eaten all!
You Jack, and Hogg, old Bunce and Pott
I wish no more to see.
Be off! Be off now all the lot!
The Winkle's the boy for me!'

Now Perry-the-Winkle grew so fat
through eating of cramsome bread,
his weskit bust, and never a hat
would sit upon his head;
for Every Thursday he went to tea,
and sat on the kitchen floor,
and smaller the old Troll seemed to be,
as he grew more and more.

The Winkle a Baker great became,
as still is said in song;
from the Sea to Bree there went the fame
of his bread both short and long.
But it weren't so good as the cramsome bread;
no butter so rich and free,
as Every Thursday the old Troll spread
for Perry-the-Winkle's tea.

I would not mind some good bakery meself (though one'd have to have a lot of excersie (fresh air and what not) to stay same shape as one finds oneself in currently, and not to acquire, say, outlines of a pear, seemingly, what with troll bread obviously being very rich in carbohydrate department)

[Firefoot]

As of recently, I have a new favorite - I don't know if it counts but I really like the Lay of Leithian. A little bit too long to post here, but my favorite lines are:

And thus in anguish Beren paid
for that great doom upon him laid,
the deathless love of Luthien,
too fair for love of mortal men;
and in his doom was Luthien snared,
the deathless in his dying shared;
and fate them forged a binding chain
of living love and mortal pain.

[*Varda*]

One I've always liked is this, from Of Beren and Luthien

Farewell sweet earth and northern sky
for ever blest, since here did lie
and here with lissom limbs did run
beneath the Moon, beneath the Sun,
Luthien Tinuviel
more fair than mortal tongue can tell
Though all to ruin fell the world
and were dissolved and backward hurled
unmade into the old abyss
yet were its making good, for this -
the dusk, the dawn, the earth, the sea -
that Luthien for a time should be.

Saying this, I love just about all the poems in LotR and the Sil.

[Nimikôi Angarauko]

The world was young, the mountains green,
No stain yet on the Moon was seen,
No words were laid on stream or stone,
When Durin woke and walked alone,
He named the nameless hills and dells;
He drank from yet untasted wells;
He stooped and looked in Mirrormere,
And saw a crown of stars appear,
As gems upon a silver thread,
Above the shadow of his head.

The world was fair, the mountains tall,
In eldar days before the fall
Of mighty kings in Nargothrond
And Gondolin, who now beyond
The Western sea have passed away:
The world was fair in Durin's Day.

A king he was on carven throne
In many-pillared halls of stone
With golden rof and wilver floor,
And runes of power upon the door.
The light of the sun and star and moon
In shining lamps of crystal hewn
Undimmed by cloud or shade of night
There shone for ever fair and bright.

There hammer on the anvil smote,
There chisel clove, and graver wrote;
There forged was blade, and bound was hilt;
The delver mined, the mason built.
There beryl, pearl, and opal pale,
And metal wrought like fishes' mail,
Buckler and corslet, axe and sword,
And shining spears were laid in hoard.

Unwearied then were Durin's folk;
Beneath the mountains music woke:
The harpers harped, the minstrels sang,
And at the gates the trumpets rang.

The world is grey, the mountains old,
The forge's fire is ashen-cold;
No harp is wrung, no hammer falls:
The darkness dwells in Durin's halls;
The shadow lies upon his tomb
In Moria, in Khazad-Dûm.
But still the sunken star appear
In dark and windless Mirrormere;
There lies his crown in water deep,
Till Durin awakes again from sleep.

this poem always conveyed the sadness of those forgotten halls to me away

[Essex]

Zoe + Doug, you would love the 'Use well the days' song by Annie Lennox that uses the words from Frodo's last song you mention above. Mark12_30 found a link to an mpeg version of the song. It's quite brilliant. http://lotrscrapbook.bookloaf.net/ref/menu.html

Hannah, BBC Radio's adaptation of LOTR has some great music to Sam's song, In Western Lands beneath the Sun. Have a listen (if you get the new cd version it has a cd of all the songs seperatly)

Volraphion, the Fall of Gil-Galad song that Sam recites that you mention above goes like this:

Gil-galad was an Elven-king.
Of him the harpers sadly sing:
the last whose realm was fair and free
between the Mountains and the Sea.

His sword was long, his lance was keen,
his shining helm afar was seen;
the countless stars of heaven's field
were mirrored in his silver shield.

But long ago he rode away,
and where he dwelleth none can say;
for into darkness fell his star
in Mordor where the shadows are.

Again, BBC Radio has a great version of this poem as a song.

but finally, who could forget Frodo's poem about the old man in a battered hat........

When evening in the Shire was grey
his footsteps on the Hill were heard;
before the dawn he went away
on journey long without a word.

From Wilderland to Western shore,
from northern waste to southern hill,
through dragon-lair and hidden door
and darkling woods he walked at will.

With Dwarf and Hobbit, Elves and Men,
with mortal and immortal folk,
with bird on bough and beast in den,
in their own secret tongues he spoke.

A deadly sword, a healing hand,
a back that bent beneath its load;
a trumpet-voice, a burning brand,
a weary pilgrim on the road.

A lord of wisdom throned he sat,
swift in anger, quick to laugh;
an old man in a battered hat
who leaned upon a thorny staff.

He stood upon the bridge alone
and Fire and Shadow both defied;
his staff was broken on the stone,
in Khazad-dûm his wisdom died.

And finally, Nimikôi, Gimli's poem you mention is one of my favourites. Have a listen to Gimli's recital on the BBC Radio adaptation. It is stunning.

PS No, I don't work for BBC Radio or take any cut in their profits!!!

[Nimikôi Angarauko]

do u know where i could get the poem, a recording that is, the only possible palce i can think of finding it is kazaa and i only want to use that as a last resort.

[Essex]

amazon.co.uk are doing the whole bbc adaptation for £50......

I think I have an mpeg creater bit of software on my pc. I'll try to copy the poem using that and send it to you, but don't hold your breath!