A FISHING SONG

O fish! that I, poor Sméagol, ever sought,

That I, we, I oft found under the waves!

In truth a fish is joy! And little fishes brought

From slavery and Shelob's labyrinth caves

And the Dead Marshes and their eerie graves

Me out, as I of better fishes thought

Than those in the dank pool where long I dwelt:

Blind roach, and tench, and then perhaps a smelt;

Maybe a perch? Yess, yess, we wants a perch!

Let uss continue now our eager search.

In noisome pools I splashed with feet so flat,

That Gollum oft with shame and outrage moans.

It was no wonder that

The cold hard stones

They broke my bones

While Sauron - so it seemed - was watching like a cat.

I gorged myself on cold and scaly fissh

Thus did I satisfy my highest wissh;

And let my bowels melt what I consumed

And I, we, did not se that we was doomed.

But then the shades were gone without a trace,

And nassty daylight came;

and I was roasted by the Yellow Face,

And hastily removed my haggard frame,

Until once more to mountain-land I came,

An empty land where there was ample space

To gnaw on thoughts that never gave me peace,

To feel an anguish which refused to cease.

There I felt great regret assault me like a flood,

I wept for crime, stained by my kinsman's blood.

And then I met a Baggins! All was turned

Towards itself. It was so plain to see

This was another one by Precious burned!

O what a Master he

Turned out to be!

As I brought him and nassty Sam upstairs, my stomach churned,

I got them in, betrayed them, but they fled

hence - with the aid of Elvish charms, 'tis said.

Once more I met them, by Mount Doom, and there the spell

The Ring had cast on me ensured I fell.