LOTR Poem: Old Will Whitfoot

[martasfic]

Title: Old Will Whitfoot
Summary: A hobbit drinking song about the caving-in of the Mayors' smial (described by the hobbits in Bree). Cowritten with Tanaqui
Rating: General (nothing objectionable)
Timeline: Late Third Age (bookverse)

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Will Whitfoot is a merry old mayor
And a merry old mayor is he.
He has his home in the old Town Hole,
'Twas as smart a hole as you might see.

Oh they feast so fine in the old Town Hole
And Old Will, oh he likes to dine.
He gives all the toasts and he holds his court
And Old Will, why he likes his wine.

Now one fine evening, when it was late
And the wine had been flowing deep,
Old Will, he decided on one more glass
Before he went off to sleep.

The guests, they had gone, so quite on his own
He went in to the feasting hall
To find a glass and the end of a bottle
But he didn't find that at all:

For as he thought to steal a drink
The roof came tumbling down,
With a crash and a roar and a mighty thump
That was heard for miles around.

Now everyone ran to see the to-do
And what a sight their eyes did meet.
When Will came out, they all gave a shout:
For he looked as white as a sheet.

There was dust on his trews and dust on his coat
And his hands and his head and his hair.
He looked just like a dumpling floured
And his brown feet were ever so fair.

So here is an end to our tale of Will,
Whose old Hole came tumbling down.
And the moral of the tale is: don't drink on your own
But make sure you buy us a round!