ReVerse

[HerenIstarion]

The thing I'm going to present to your attention started off as a feat of Another Way Round quotes game, when instead of reversing the prose quote, I chose some versified fragment of Tolkien's work to puzzle participants with. I liked the idea so much that I troubled myself with the turning inside out of poems as a whole, fruit of my toil to be given below

The idea is to reverse the entire meaning of the poem, but try and retain the form and 'spirit' of it.

The originals are in italics

So, here we go (and, of course, join in):

EDIT: I've added up a poll. Though we have other effective ways of getting feedback - that is, reputation system, I've found that fellow B-Downers tend to be kind and use it to provide mainly positive feedback. Suppose somebody disliked the idea heartily, but refrained from rating me or other on the thread down due to kindness and generosity - the poll would be the good way for them to tell us what they think about the issue. If you're not sure wich correspondents to your opinion in a more precise way, be free to choose two answers - it's allowed. But hurry - the poll will be up for three months only END OF EDIT

EDIT2: Me and my impatience! My former signature, about power to edit being a privilege but not a right, was mainly for myself - always expecting to have that power to correct any mistakes I'm so prone to making, I end with 'opon' in a second question, which I have no means to change. Now I left to hope for generosity of mods, who may happen around and do it for me, please END OF EDIT2

[HerenIstarion]

Burn, burn tree and fern!
Shrivel and scorch! A fizzling torch
To light the night for our delight,
Ya hey!

Bake and toast 'em, fry and roast 'em
till beards blaze, and eyes glaze;
till hair smells and skins crack,
fat melts, and bones black
in cinders lie
beneath the sky!

So dwarves shall die,
and light the night for our delight,
Ya hey!
Ya-harri-heyl
Ya hoy!


which became:


Water, water stone and sand
Swell and stifle! Whistling rifle!
Darken the day for them to despair
Derry dol!

Sow and reap us, gather and heap us
After cheeks pale and their breaths rale
After horn shows and hide peels
Meat denses and blood heals
And fires leap
Over the earth!

And giants will live!
So dark the day for them to despair
Derry dol!
Dol derry dol!
Derry dol!

[HerenIstarion]

The King beneath the mountains,
The King of carven stone,
The lord of silver fountains
Shall come into his own!

His crown shall be upholden,
His harp shall be restrung,
His halls shall echo golden
To songs of yore re-sung.

The woods shall wave on mountains
And grass beneath the sun;
His wealth shall flow in fountains
And the rivers golden run.

The streams shall run in gladness,
The lakes shall shine and burn,
And sorrow fail and sadness
At the Mountain-king's return!

to become:


The President over the oakery
The President of molten fat
The servant of wooden bakery
Have gone from where he sat

His shoes have been downtrodden
His pipes've been snapped in two
His shack with flood was sodden
His creed gone to the blue

The desert filled his tillages
The sand mounts o'er the moon
Privation seized his villages
His lead is kept by loon

The lakes are dried in sorrow
The rivers're bleak and wet
All glee have gone from morrow
He's gone from where he sat!

[HerenIstarion]

Lovely was she
As in elven-song is told:
She had pearls in hair
All threaded fair;
Of gossamer shot with gold
Was her kerchief made,
And a silver braid
Of stars about her throat.
Of moth-web light
All moonlit-white
She wore a woven coat,
And round her kirtle
Was bound a girdle
Sewn with diamond dew.

She walked by day
Under mantle grey
And hood of clouded blue;
But she went by night
All glittering bright
Under the starlit sky,
And her slippers frail
Of fishes' mail
Flashed as she went by
To her dancing-pool,
And on mirror cool
Of windless water played.
As a mist of light
In whirling flight
A glint like glass she made
Wherever her feet
Of silver fleet
Flicked the dancing-floor.

She looked on high
To the roofless sky,
And she looked to the shadowy shore;
Then round she went,
And her eyes she bent
And saw beneath her go
A Princess Shee
As fair as Mee:
They were dancing toe to toe!

Shee was as light
As Mee, and as bright;
But Shee was, strange to tell,
Hanging down
With starry crown
Into a bottomless well!
Her gleaming eyes
In great surprise
Looked up to the eyes of Mee:
A marvellous thing,
Head-down to swing
Above a starry sea!

Only their feet
Could ever meet;
For where the ways might lie
To find a land
Where they do not stand
But hang down in the sky
No one could tell
Nor learn in spell
In all the elven-lore.

So still on her own
An elf alone
Dancing as before
With pearls in hair
And kirtle fair
And slippers frail
Of fishes' mail went Mee:
Of fishes' mail
And slippers frail
And kirtle fair
With pearls in hair went Shee!



now to be read as:


Huge Swineherd Him

Ugly was he
As the orckish prose reveals
With bone in a nose
Still bendy as hose
Of a wood and a nail to kill
Is his club hand-made
And his shield all laid
With spikes about its brim.
Foul his hide all dark
Stained with bloody mark
Of one Eye so cruel and grim
All round his loin
Skulls and ribs be going
Of unhappy elves he slew

He crawled by night
Outrun by fright
In seek of live flesh to hew
And he slipped by day
As a spot dim grey
Over the darkling lake
Oh, his boots all strong
Withered earth oft prong
Like enourmous cruel rake
When he arched his back
Thirsted for slash an hack
With his cruel and ruddy fang
Foul helm of brass
All stained and crass
O'er hairy shoulder was hung
When the pin-sharp claws
Of his clutching paws
Through the sinew and bone he tore

He gazed all down
As o'er the mobbed town
Through pale and shining door
All square he sat
Into roomy vat
Empty he thought it but,
A swineherd Ai
With winked eye…
They ended right butt to butt!

Ai was as grim,
As Him and as prim
But Ai was, easy to cry
Flutterin' like bat
Upside in the vat
Up to the domed sky!
His dirty ears
Pointed like spears
Rubbed to ears of Him
Irksome a thing
With a loud ding
Vat drowned in lake so dim!


Not only the butts
Of both those mutts
But ears and noses and eyes
Were alloyed
In pairs were toyed
Both buzzed like cruel flies!
Everyone said
Be them live or dead
That their seat may be found at ease
By the smelly stench
Of the last year's tench
And the oily lamp of grease!
But still they sit
In a vat so neat
One great lump o'meat
Still buzzing like before!
In great lump o'meat
In a vat so neat
There still they sit
Behind the locked door!

[HerenIstarion]

When the moon was new and the sun young
of silver and gold the gods sung:
in the green grass they silver spilled,
and the white waters they with gold filled.
Ere the pit was dug or Hell yawned,
ere dwarf was bred or dragon spawned,
there were Elves of old, and strong spells
under green hills in hollow dells
they sang as they wrought many fair things,
and the bright crowns of the Elf-kings.
But their doom fell, and their song waned,
by iron hewn and by steel chained.
Greed that sang not, nor with mouth smiled,
in dark holes their wealth piled,
graven silver and carven gold:
over Elvenhome the shadow rolled.


There was an old dwarf in a dark cave,
to silver and gold his fingers clave;
with hammer and tongs and anvil-stone
he worked his hands to the hard bone.
and coins he made, and strings of rings,
and thought to buy the power of kings.
But his eyes grew dim and his ears dull
and the skin yellow on his old skull;
through his bony claw with a pale sheen
the stony jewels slipped unseen.
No feet he heard, though the earth quaked.
when the young dragon his thirst slaked.
and the stream smoked at his dark door.
The flames hissed on the dank floor,
and he died alone in the red fire;
his bones were ashes in the hot mire.


There was an old dragon under grey stone;
his red eyes blinked as he lay alone.
His joy was dead and his youth spent,
he was knobbed and wrinkled, and his limbs bent
in the long years to his gold chained;
in his heart's furnace the fire waned.
To his belly's slime gems stuck thick,
silver and gold he would snuff and lick:
he knew the place of the least ring
beneath the shadow of his black wing.
Of thieves he thought on his hard bed,
and dreamed that on their flesh he fed,
their bones crushed, and their blood drank:
his ears drooped and his breath sank.
Mail-rings rang. He heard them not.
A voice echoed in his deep grot:
a young warrior with a bright sword
called him forth to defend his hoard.
His teeth were knives, and of horn his hide,
but iron tore him, and his flame died.


There was an old king on a high throne:
his white beard lay on knees of bone;
his mouth savoured neither meat nor drink,
nor his ears song; he could only think
of his huge chest with carven lid
where pale gems and gold lay hid
in secret treasury in the dark ground;
its strong doors were iron-bound.
The swords of his thanes were dull with rust,
his glory fallen, his rule unjust,
his halls hollow, and his bowers cold,
but king he was of elvish gold.
He heard not the horns in the mountain-pass,
he smelt not the blood on the trodden grass,
but his halls were burned, his kingdom lost;
in a cold pit his bones were tossed.

There is an old hoard in a dark rock,
forgotten behind doors none can unlock;
that grim gate no man can pass.
On the mound grows the green grass;
there sheep feed and the larks soar,
and the wind blows from the sea-shore.
The old hoard the Night shall keep,
while earth waits and the Elves sleep


**********************


The aged earth will lie all cold, senile
With crust of mould and rotting vile
Iron rust will cover ruins bare
Brown dust for bleeding feet to fare
When the mountains crumble an’ sweep
Giants will die, and humans weep
New-born orks will sprawl out, cover all
Out o’darkling caves, and the trees will fall
Ruin they will bring, hack and blood
Cruelest of slaves, out they’ll come like flood
Chance will rule, no law, the stronger hand
Spoiled be alike the sea and the land
Wretched they’ll be, and they will not last
Like ants o’er hill and plain marching fast
Crumpled steel and dusted lead
With the wind blown like a seed

There’ll be youthful giant on a stripped plain
Steel and lead he’ll give away bain
With nails and planks he’ll toy at will
And with such a play his feet heal
And cubes he’ll break, and squares he’ll smash
Combined rule for him’ll be hash
His toes’ll be quick, his fingers fast
His stomach huge and waist so vast
He’ll spy the sparrows flyin by
And pebbles falling from the sky
He’ll mark them go, all pigeons old
As they pass over waters cold
He’ll be reborn in green of pool
And never will he loose his wool

There’ll be dove over black mire
Of all his tribe the king and sire
Among their thousands youngster frail
With finest feather of hue grey-pale
Free for one day them all to lead
With jet-black eye of fiery bead
Droplets falling down his pearly wing
Steely voice for his song to sing
He will give no care for the giant’s cube
And he’ll bother not with the orkish tube
O’er the mire he’ll settle, pigeonhole to build
Palace for himself, wordmoot for his guild
Strong he’ll grow, of eye and of the heart
Fast he’ll be as wind, as storm, as flying dart
He will see them go, monks in hats of cork
Who will heed him not, wielding rusted forks
Heading off his mire, where he’ll grow so strong
Ruling flying hosts and cooing throngs

There they will be, humble monks of Fork
Keen of sight beneath their hats of cork
Shaven rosy cheeks utter sign of health
Feasting day and night, needing there no stealth
They will sing by day, they will dance by night
They will keep no goods and will travel light
Over shining water, mirror of the sky
Like to clouds white in the breeze to fly
Their forks they’ll polish to make them shine
The fame of their cook will gather guests to dine
Their huts so warm, shelter in the lee
The keep of love, joy and leaping glee
Tables will snow food and wine will fall like rain
Fiddles hum the tune to praise their happy reign
Realm they’ll found for seekers after quick to find
Rest with peace of heart, neath the sign of hind

There the wealth will be given free
For each who asks on the count of three
There the door will be open wide
All secrets be gone, and no vice to hide
The Day shall shine, the sea shore be calm
Air be sweet, flowers bloom and exhale balm
Woods will rise anew, all the ice be rived
Sprinkling silver dew o’er the earth revived

[symestreem]

Wow. This is impressive!

[HerenIstarion]

There was a man who dwelt alone,
as day and night went past
he sat as still as carven stone,
and yet no shadow cast.
The white owls perched upon his head
beneath the winter moon;
they wiped their beaks and thought him dead
under the stars of June.

There came a lady clad in grey
in the twilight shining:
one moment she would stand and stay,
her hair with flowers entwining.
He woke, as had he sprung of stone,
and broke the spell that bound him;
he clasped her fast, both flesh and bone,
and wrapped her shadow round him.

There never more she walks her ways
by sun or moon or star;
she dwells below where neither days
nor any nights there are.
But once a year when caverns yawn
and hidden things awake,
they dance together then till dawn
and a single shadow make.


***

There is a maid who always taunts
Her brothers thirty-three
Her mum and dad, and uncle and aunt
She teases from her tree
Black mice she carries under arm
Be it winter or fall
She tickles their tummies and feeds them barm
As on their backs they roll

The gent to love her barely clad
Is running wild and sad
Her tease and taunt have drove him mad
Too old was he, she said
She sleeps with ease, and wakes in glee
Whatever idlers think
Her dance is gracious, movement free
Her shadow jumps and kinks

Before she did and hence she’ll climb
Her lofty maple tree
Her mocking laugh will often dumb
Unhappy thirty-three
But often still when wind a-howls
And no one sees her go
She weeps alone into her shawl
And watches gulls ashore

[Elennar Starfire]

I finally worked out that tricksy last line! So, here's one from someone other than HI!

I can't quite remember how the original goes, and don't have my book handy, but it's Galadriel's song in Lothlorien, beginning with I sang of leaves, of leaves of gold, and leaves of gold there grew.

****************************************
You spoke of roots, of silver roots, but silver roots dissolved,
You spoke of calm, but no calm came into the hearts you loved.
Before the earth, before the sea, the moon shone on the land,
And silver stones of Ilmarin sat silent in your hand.
Here short the silver roots have gone behind the long straight days,
While there before the joining streams the joy of mortals stays.
O Moria, the summer comes, the brightly starlit night,
The trees are blooming in the spring, the blossoms fair and white.
O Moria, how short my stay within that far-off wood,
I would not wish to go again, not even if I could.
And if of wings you now should speak, these wings of mine would fly,
Far away, so far away, through starlit summer skies.

*****************************************

[HerenIstarion]

I sang of leaves, of leaves of gold, and leaves of gold there grew:
Of wind I sang, a wind there came and in the branches blew.
Beyond the Sun, beyond the Moon, the foam was on the Sea,
And by the strand of Ilmarin there grew a golden Tree.
Beneath the stars of Ever-eve in Eldamar it shone,
In Eldamar beside the walls of Elven Tirion.
There long the golden leaves have grown upon the branching years,
While here beyond the Sundering Seas now fall the Elven-tears.
O Lórien! The Winter comes, the bare and leafless Day;
The leaves are falling in the stream, the River flows away.
O Lórien! Too long I have dwelt upon this Hither Shore
And in a fading crown have twined the golden elanor.
But if of ships I now should sing, what ship would come to me,
What ship would bear me ever back across so wide a Sea?

Good job, Elennar

[HerenIstarion]

Sing hey! for the bath at close of day
that washes the weary mud away!
A loon is he that will not sing:
O! Water Hot is a noble thing!

O! Sweet is the sound of falling rain,
and the brook that leaps from hill to plain;
but better than rain or rippling streams
is Water Hot that smokes and steams.

O! Water cold we may pour at need
down a thirsty throat and be glad indeed;
but better is Beer, if drink we lack,
and Water Hot poured down the back.

O! Water is fair that leaps on high
in a fountain white beneath the sky;
but never did fountain sound so sweet
as splashing Hot Water with my feet!


***


Be not lorn! We splash in the mud at morn!
That bakes our skin into scale and horn
Wiseman is he that springs into dirt
Tearing off his pants and shirt!

O! Bitter is thought of the burning fire
And swelling heat to dry the mire
For good is swamp to stroll along
Of leeches and slime we sing a song!

O! Hungry one may devour some bread
Or salad fresh with a gulp of dread
But better is ooze and tadpoles green
Some newts, some snakes and a toad’s splin!

O! Sun may shine in the sky above
But better is shade down the chilly cove
For mucous floor and leaking walls
Are better than any nobleman’s halls!

[HerenIstarion]

O! What are you doing,
And where are you going?
Your ponies need shoeing!
The river is flowing!
O! tra-la-la-lally
here down in the valley!

O! What are you seeking,
And where are you making?
The faggots are reeking,
The bannocks are baking!
O! tril-lil-lil-lolly
the valley is jolly,
ha! ha!

O! Where are you going
With beards all a-wagging?
No knowing, no knowing
What brings Mister Baggins,
And Balin and Dwalin
down into the valley
in June
ha! ha!

O! Will you be staying,
Or will you be flying?
Your ponies are straying!
The daylight is dying!
To fly would be folly,
To stay would be jolly
And listen and hark
Till the end of the dark
to our tune
ha! ha.'



***************************


Ah! That’s what I’m being
That’s whence I’m coming
My dragon needs nothing
But vulcano erupting!
Ah! Tam tara ram it!
Up there on the summit!

Ah! That’s what I’d be finding
The root of undoing
The flow out-putting
The blaze of star-shooting
Ah! Doom doora doomy
The pinnacle is roomy!
Hey ho!

Ah! That’s whence I’m coming
With blade for a shaving
The secret I’m keeping
Is why I am climbing
A-creeping, a-crowling
Up, up the sheer wall
With a winter a-stroll
Hey ho!

Ah! Would I be falling?
Or would I be diving?
My dragon’s back’s swaying
Grey morn is a-coming
And dive is so darin’
Whilst fall is so scarin'
But to see and be seen
Is the pleasure so keen
High on that wall
Hey ho!

[HerenIstarion]

Look, there is Fastitocalon!
An island good to land upon,
Although 'tis rather bare.
Come, leave the sea! And let us run,
Or dance, or lie down in the sun!
See, gulls are sitting there!
Beware!
Gulls do not sink.
There they may sit, or strut and prink:
Their part it is to tip the wink,
If anyone should dare
Upon that isle to settle,
Or only for a while to get
Relief from sickness or the wet,
Or maybe boil a kettle.
Ah, foolish folk, who land on HIM,
And little fires proceed to trim
And hope perhaps for tea!
It may be that His shell is thick,
He seems to sleep; but He is quick,
And floats now in the sea
With guile;
And when He hears their tapping feet,
Or faintly feels the sudden heat,
With smile
HE dives,
And promptly turning upside-down
He tips them off, and deep they drown,
And lose their silly lives
To their surprise,
Be wise!
There are many monsters in the Sea,
But none so perilous as HE,
Old horny Fastitocalon,
Whose mighty kindred all have gone,
The last of the old Turtle-fish.
So if to save your life you wish
Then I advise:
Pay heed to sailors' ancient lore,
Set foot on no uncharted shore!
Or better still,
Your days at peace on Middle-earth
In mirth
Fulfill!


***


Hear, there comes Armageddon
But what is it? The End? The Dawn?
This news is rather rare
Come, let us ponder, let us think
For we have come upon the brink
Is meaning over there?
Beware!
Wise do not ask
For all we know, in Trust they bask
To teach the laymen is their task
If anyone should care,
To ask for ancient lore
Or only for a while afore
Their death the Real Love adore
Dare not you to compare!
Ah, blessed folk, who think of Him
Or maybe see Him in their dream
And hope for calm on sea
It may be that He seems away
He seems to sleep, His feet of clay
But near is the spring of glee!
He’ll come!
And when we hear Him by the gate
The knot unties, and done is fate
For some!
And some!
Who promptly turned upside-down
May be, and to the Void be thrown
To lose their silly lives
To their surprise!
Be wise!
There is no else to sooth but Him
Or open mind and sight too dim
To see afore Armageddon
The day of Doom, the day of storm
The last of all the days of old
Sweeps stars and moon, turns fire cold.
So say the wise:
Pay heed to old forgotten lore
And choose with care what you adore
Or better still
Love Him instead, with daily bread
Be fed
Or dead!

[Sophia the Thunder Mistress]

Heren, you've taken all the good songs already.

But I'll go for the Athelas verse, mercifully short it is.

Original
When the black breath blows
and death's shadow grows
and all lights pass,
come athelas! come athelas!
Life to the dying
In the king's hand lying!

ReVersed
Where a white pause draws
Or life's light shows flaws
Or no dark stays
Go loathsome haze! Go loathsome haze!
Death to the living
Out of peasant's foot giving

Well, who knows how close "loathsome haze" is to an opposite of "beneficial leaf", but at least it rhymes!

Sophia

[HerenIstarion]

Nice to see more participants, and good reversing, Sophia

Heren, you've taken all the good songs already

Besides, there is no obligation not to have a go at poetry already 'ReVersed'. As my office puts on advertisement page every once we have a vacancy, we embrace diversity

cheers

[Sophia the Thunder Mistress]

Bilbo's Man in the Moon poem, reversed by yours truly and Roget's Thesaurus.

Original
There is an inn a merry old inn
beneath an old grey hill,
And there they brew a beer so brown
That the Man in the Moon himself came down
one night to drink his fill

The ostler has a tipsy cat
that plays a five-stringed fiddle;
And up and down he draws his bow,
Now squeaking high, now purring low,
now sawing in the middle.

The landlord keeps a little dog
that is mighty fond of jokes;
When there's good cheer among the guests,
He cocks an ear at all the jests
and laughs until he chokes.

They also keep a horn-ed cow
as proud as any queen;
But music turns her head like ale,
And makes her wave her tufted tail
and dance upon the green.

And O! the rows of silver dishes
and the store of silver spoons!
For Sunday there's a special pair,
And these they polish up with care
on saturday afternoons.

The Man in the Moon was drinking deep,
and the cat began to wail;
A dish and a spoon on the table danced,
The cow in the garden madly pranced,
and the little dog chased its tail.

The Man in the Moon took another mug,
and then rolled beneath his chair;
And there he dozed and dreamed of ale,
Till in the sky the stars were pale
and dawn was in the air.

Then the ostler said to his tipsy cat:
"The white horses of the Moon,
They neigh and champ their silver bits;
But their master's been and drowned his wits,
and the sun'll be rising soon!"

So the cat on his fiddle played hey-diddle-diddle,
a jig that would wake the dead:
He squeaked and sawed and quickened the tune,
While the landlord shook the Man in the Moon
"It's after three!" he said

They rolled the man slowly up the hill
and bundled him into the moon,
While his horses galloped up in rear,
And the cow came capering like a deer,
and a dish ran up with the spoon.

Now quicker the fiddle went deedle-dum-diddle;
the dog began to roar,
The cow and the horses stood on their heads;
the guests all bounded from their beds
and danced upon the floor

With a ping and a pong the fiddle strings broke!
the cow jumped over the moon,
And the little dog laughed to see such fun,
And the Saturday dish went off at a run
With the silver Sunday spoon.

The round Moon rolled behind the hill,
as the sun raised up her head.
She hardly believed her fiery eyes;
For though it was day, to her surprise
They all went back to bed!


Reversed
Here was the jail the sober new jail
above the valley callow,
For here we drain the bread less clear
a Woman outside a sun herself went near
Two days long eating her hollow.

A barmaid lost her straightlaced dog
this works the thrice-snared drum;
Or down or up she beats with club,
Then booming down, then screaming up,
then singing while she thrums.

A tenant lost the mighty cat
most sober and most grave;
Where here's bad news within the folk,
she lumbers in to hear them choke,
Or cries the tears she craves.

We ne'er did lose the bald-faced horse
less humble than every wench;
And silence stiffens her as a corpse,
Her head hangs limp, she sighs perforce
Or slumps down 'neath the bench.

Or not columns of golden pans
or a dearth of golden knives!
Aganst Wednesdays here's the common few,
Or those we've tarnished more than due
in Monday morning's lives.

A woman outside sun is eating scarce,
Or a dog finished his nap;
the pot and the knife under chairs did lie,
a horse in the kitchen demurely sighed,
Or a monstrous cat mice did trap.

A woman outside sun declined a bowl,
Or climbed atop the desk;
Or here she woke and spoke of bread,
Yet nighttime fell, and so she said
That on the sea t'was dusk.

Now the barmaid ran from her deadpan dog:
those black cattle from a Sun,
Moo and ding their golden bells;
For our Mistress's sober and all is well,
And the day is almost done!

Now a dog with a drum beat out fi-fie-fo-fum,
a waltz that could send one to sleep:
She hemmed and she hawed, and she drew it out long,
All the tenants heaved Sun back to where she belonged
"'Tis not yet noon!" they'd bleat.

We shoved the lass roughly down into the dell
Or shimmied her out of the sun,
Lest her cattle plodded cross ahead,
Or a horse lay still as though 'twere dead,
Or a knife divorced a pan.

Then slower the drum came fi-fie-fo-fum;
A cat then ceased to purr,
The horses and cow fell upon their backs;
a landlord smiled and went for a nap
and slept like to wake no more.

Without a sound the drumsticks flew!
a horse tunnelled under the earth,
Or a massive cat sighed to hear such despair,
The pots broke out of their unlikely pairs
and from them the gold knives hurled.

A flat sun scraped across the dell,
while the moon retired to bed.
He quickly distrusted his shadowy nose;
For though the day, like the birds had flown
We all arose instead!

*Mops brow* Whew! That is one long poem.

[HerenIstarion]

Troll sat alone on his seat of stone,
And munched and mumbled a bare old bone;
For many a year he had gnawed it near,
For meat was hard to come by.
Done by! Gum by!
In a cave in the hills he dwelt alone,
And meat was hard to come by.

Up came Tom with his big boots on.
Said he to Troll: 'Pray, what is yon?
For it looks like the shin o' roy nuncle Tim,
As should be a-lyin' in graveyard.
Caveyard! Paveyard!
This many a year has Tim been gone,
And I thought he were lyin' in graveyard'.

'My lad', said Troll, 'this bone I stole.
But what be bones that lie in a hole?
Thy nuncle was dead as a lump o' lead,
Afore I found his shinbone.
Tinbone! Thinbone!
He can spare a share for a poor old troll;
For he don't need his shinbone'.

Said Tom: 'I don't see why the likes o' thee
Without axin' leave should go makin' free
With the shank or the shin o' my father's kin;
So hand the old bone over!
Rover! Trover!
Though dead he be, it belongs to he;
So hand the old bone over!'

'For a couple o' pins', says Troll, and grins,
'I'll eat thee too, and gnaw thy shins.
A bit o' fresh meat will go down sweet!
I'll try my teeth on thee now.
Нее now! See now!
I'm tired o' gnawing old bones and skins;
I've a mind to dine on thee now'.

But just as he thought his dinner was caught,
He found his hands had hold of naught.
Before he could mind, Tom slipped behind
And gave him the boot to larn him.
Warn him! Darn him!
A bump o' the boot on the seat, Tom thought,
Would be the way to larn him.

But harder than stone is the flesh and bone
Of a troll that sits in the hills alone.
As well set your boot to the mountain's root,
For the seat of a troll don't feel it.
Peel it! Heal it!
Old Troll laughed, when he heard Tom groan,
And he knew his toes could feel it.

Tom's leg is game, since home he came,
And his bootless foot is lasting lame;
But Troll don't care, and he's still there
With the bone he boned from its owner.
Doner! Boner!
Troll's old seat is still the same,
And the bone he boned from its owner!


***

The crowd of dwarves ran and jumped on turf
By the lake they lived and watched the surf
Just for a day, they all came to play
For it was a feast of an open fist
All wist! All gist!
They left their cave and mushroom erf
And came to the lake with the morning mist!

Down came Smaug the Strong with his wings a-wide
With an iron scale, and a foul hide
Pouring fire a-soar, rising smokes a-roar!
Swifter he flew than a gale!
A hail! A wail!
This very day nowhere to hide
Their halls and gates had proved frail!

‘My dwarves’, said drake, ‘your halls I’ll take
And burnt be down the town on lake
Your lode and mine, all soon be mine
And I’ll grow fat on dwarfmeat!
Teeth bit! Tail hit!
In the cave or by lake, I’ll skin you and bake
And hence cave be lit with my breath heat!

The dwarves forlorn, their beards they torn
But almost all were dead by morn
With an iron claw of his mighty paw
He clove his passage in!
Deep in! Crawl in!
To grab their gold, the trove untold
Of riches gather in!

Not ax, nor sword, nor pleading word
Could stop the drake across the ford
He went ashore, threw down the door
He held his feast on dwarves poor!
On poor! The boor!
The least of rings and gems a-hoard
He clawed in heaps to pour!

For many an year, noone came near
For awe of the drake and for death’s fear
He slept on his gold, and his heat went cold
Pretty gems impressed to his belly!
Soft as it was like a jelly!
But not everywhere, some spots were bare
With some slime showing off his belly!

Though the tooth be long, and the wing still strong
But the trove can’t be kept if it’s gain were wrong
Not on top, nor under a barrow, on a path a-wide or a-narrow ...
The man there lived who honed his bow
Man of law! Of no flaw!
In the south he lived by the Lake of Long
And he knew how to shoot an arrow!

Now some may be glad, or some maybe sad
But the drake is no more, there he lies, he is dead
And for all who care, the gems are there
On the river bed, on the lake floor
Says the lore!
Under the waves where winds howl bad
For those who dare to dive for more!