Three Villanelles from my Past Musings: Where Hath the Muse Gone?
The Took's hands are outstretched-
His eyes gleam clear and bright
Those mushrooms shall be fetched.
He will not deter from his task.
Of Farmer Maggot there's no fright
The Took's hands are outstretched.
Why does he do this, you ask?
Because mushrooms are his delight
Those mushrooms shall be fetched.
In their heady scent he basks-
Of his actions he feels so right-
The Took's hands are outstretched.
Stealthily he covers his tracks,
Avoiding the sun's revealing light,
The Took's hands are outstretched-
Those mushrooms shall be fetched.
For Rosie Cotton Gamgee
I am his companion, lover and wife;
Yet his soul is torn in two
Rosie Cotton, Sam's other life
Since I was a lass I loved the son of Gamgee
When he returned from the Quest to his arms I flew
I am his companion, lover and wife
"Oh, how I've missed you, my Rosie"
Yet deep in my heart, I always knew-
Rosie Cotton, Sam's other life
Bag End rings with our children's shouts of glee
Sam's eyes meet mine, yet see eyes of blue
I am his companion, lover and wife
Oft his gaze turns toward the far-off sea
Oh, Sam me dear, my heart breaks too
Rosie Cotton, Sam's other life
One day, Sam, I'll be gone and you'll sail the sea
Your soul will not always be torn in two
I am his companion, lover and wife
Rosie Cotton, Sam's other life
For ORC #3"
The Black Speech he speaks-these words elude me
I vainly strive in each viewing for a glimpse of his face
As I present this homage to Orc Number Three.
I strained in the dark to see as they carried the halflings
Oh, no, the Uruk Hai smelled Aragorn, they pick up the pace
The Black Speech he speaks-these words elude me
He is a dreadful creature; just one of these Isengard-spawned things-
But somehow, irrevocably, I am drawn to his face
As I present this homage to Orc Number Three.
Do not speak to me of spiders and hobbits and ropes and rings
There is one reason, one reason only, I’ve come three times to this place
The Black Speech he speaks-these words elude me
I watch with pride and joy as a rock at Helm’s Deep he flings
Or perhaps he was the one who went sailing into space
As I present this homage to Orc Number Three.
You may keep your elves, your ents and your kings
For me, the bereaved, there can be no solace-
The Black Speech he speaks-these words elude me
As I present this homage to Orc Number Three.