The Songs and Poems from Tolkien's Book, "The Hobbit".
Chapter One
Chip the glasses and crack the plates!
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Thereupon the twelve dwarves - not Thorin, he was too important, and stayed talking to Gandalf - jumped to their feet, and made tall piles of all the things. Off they went, not waiting for trays, balancing columns, of plates, each with a bottle on top, with one hand, while the hobbit ran after them almost squeaking with fright: "please be careful!" and 'please, don't trouble! I can manage". But the dwarves only started to sing…..
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Chip the glasses and crack the plates! Blunt the knives and bend the forks! That's what Bilbo Baggins hates - Smash the bottles and burn the corks!
Cut the cloth and tread the fat! Pour the milk on the pantry floor! Leave the bones on the bedroom mat! Splash the wine on every door!
Dump the crocks in a boiling bowl; Pound them up with a thumping pole; And when you've finished, if any are whole, Send them down the hall to roll!
That's what Bilbo Baggins hates! So, carefully! Carefully with the plates!
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And of course they
did none of those dreadful thing, everything was cleaned and put safe
as quick as lightening, while the hobbit was turning round and round
in the middle of the kitchen, trying to see what they were doing.
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The dark filled all the room, and the fire died down, and the shadows were lost, and still they played on. And suddenly first one and then another began to sing as they played, deep-throated singing of the dwarves in the deep places of their ancient homes; and this is like a fragment of their song, if it can be like their song without their music….
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Far over the misty mountains cold, To dungeons deep and caverns old We must away ere the break of day, To seek the pale enchanted gold.
The dwarves of yore made mighty spells, While hammers fell like ringing bells In places deep, where dark things sleep, In hollow halls beneath the fells.
For ancient kings and elvish lord There many a gleaming golden hoard They shaped and wrought, and light they caught, To hide in gems on hilt of sword.
On silver necklaces they strung The flowering stars, on crowns they hung The dragon-fire, in twisted wire They meshed the light and moon and sun.
For over the misty mountains cold To dungeons deep and caverns old, We must away ere break of day, To claim our long-forgotten gold.
Goblets they carved there for themselves And harps of gold; where no man delves There lay they lay long, and many a song Was sung unheard by man or elves.
The pines were roaring on the height, The winds were moaning in the night. The fire was red, it flaming spread; Laid low like torches blazed with light.
The bells were ringing in the dale, And men looked up with faces pale, Then dragon's ire more fierce than fire Laid low their towers and houses frail.
The mountains smoked beneath the moon; The dwarves, they heard the tramp of doom. They fled their hall to dying fall Beneath his feet, beneath the moon.
For over misty mountains grim To dungeons deep and caverns dim We must away ere break of day, To win our harps and gold from him!
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As they sang the hobbit felt the love of beautiful things made by hands and by cunning and by magic moving through him, a fierce and a jealous love, the desire of the hearts of dwarves.
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Chapter 3
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….'Hmmm! it smells like elves!' thought Bilbo, and he looked up at the stars. They were burning bright and blue. Just then there came a burst of song like laughter in the trees…
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O! What are you doing? And where are you going? 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, 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!
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So they laughed and sang in the trees, and pretty fair nonsense I daresay you think it. Not that they would care, they would only laugh all the more if you told them so. They were elves of course. Soon Bilbo caught glimpses of them as the darkness deepened.
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Chapter 4
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… Now there came a glimmer of a red light before them. The goblins began to sing, or croak, keeping time with the flap of their flat feet on the stone, and shaking their prisoners as well….
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Clap! Snap! The black crack! Grip, grab! Pinch, nab! And down to Goblin- town you go my lad!
Clash, crash! Crush, smash! Hammer and tongs! Knocker and gongs! Pound, pound, far underground! Ho, ho! My lad!
Swish, smack! Whip crack! Batter and beat! Yammer and bleat! Work, work! Nor dare shirk, While Goblins quaff, and Goblins laugh, Round and round far underground Below, my lad!
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It sounded truly terrifying. The walls echoed to the clap, snap! And the crush, smash! And to the ugly laughter of their ho, ho! My lad! The general meaning of the song was only too plain; for now the goblins took out whips and whipped them with a swish, smack! And set them running as fast as they could in front of them; and more than one of the dwarves were already yammering and bleating like anything, when they stumbled into a big cavern.
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Chapter Six
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Fifteen birds on five fir trees, Their feathers were fanned in a fiery breeze, But, funny little birds, they had no wings! O what shall we do with the funny little things? Roast 'em alive, or stew them in a pot; Fry them, boil them and eat them hot?
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Then they stopped and shouted out: 'Fly away little birds! Fly away if you can! Come down little birds, or you will get roasted in your nests! Sing, sing, little birds! Why don't you sing?' 'Go away! Little boys!' shouted Gandalf in answer. 'It isn't birdnesting time. Also naughty boys that play with fire get punished.' He said it to make them angry, and to show them he was not frightened of them - though of course he was, wizard though he was. But they took no notice, and they went on singing….
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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-hey! Ya hoy!
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And with that 'Ya hoy!' the flames were under Gandalf's tree. In a moment it spread to the others. The bark caught fire, the lower branches cracked.
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Chapter 7
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The great door had creaked and slammed. Beorn was gone. The dwarves were sitting cross-legged on the floor round the fire, and presently they began to sing. Some of the verses were like this, but there were many more, and their singing went on of a long while….
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The wind was on the withered heath, But in the forest stirred no leaf: There shadows lay by night and day, And dark things silent crept beneath.
The wind came down from mountains cold, And like a tide it roared and rolled; The branches groaned, the forest moaned, And leaves were laid upon the mould.
The wind went on from West to East; All movement in the forest ceased, But shrill and harsh across the marsh, Its whistling voices were released.
The grasses hissed, their tassels bent, The reeds were rattling - on it went O'er shaken pool under heavens cool Where racing clouds were torn and rent.
It passed the lonely Mountain bare, And swept above the dragon's lair: There black and dark lay boulders stark And flying smoke was in the air.
It left the world and took its flight, Over the wide seas of the night. The moon set sail upon the gale, And stars were fanned to leaping light.
Bilbo began to nod again. Suddenly up stood Gandalf.
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'It is time for us to sleep,' he said, '-for us, but not I think for Beorn. In this hall we can rest sound and safe, but I warn you all not to forget what Beorn said before he left us: you must now stray outside until the sun is up, on your peril!'….
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Chapter Eight
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Bilbo, however, soon slipped away to a different place. The idea came to him to lead the furious spiders further and further away from the dwarves, if he could; to make them curious, excited and angry all at once. When about fifty had gone off to the place where he had stood before, he threw some more stones at these, and at others that had stopped behind; then dancing among the trees he began to sing a song to infuriate them and bring them all after him, and also to let the dwarves hear his voice.
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This is what he sang:
Old fat spider spinning in a tree! Old fat spider can't see me! Attercop! Attercop! Won't you stop, Stop your spinning and look for me?
Old Tomnoddy, all big body, Old Tomnoddy can't spy me! Attercop! Attercop! Down you drop! You'll never catch me up your tree!
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Not very good perhaps, but then you must remember that he had to make it up himself, on the spur of a very awkward moment. It did what he wanted anyway.
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Lazy Lob and crazy Cob Are wearing webs to wind me I am far more sweet than other meat But still cannot find me!
Here am I, naughty little fly; You are fat and lazy. You cannot trap me, though you try, In your cobwebs crazy.
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With that he turned and found that the last space between two tall trees had been closed with a web - but luckily not a proper web, only great strands of double-thick spider-rope run hastily backwards and forwards from trunk to trunk. He slashed the threads to pieces and went off singing.
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Chapter Nine
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'Very well, very well,' they answered rolling the barrels to the opening. 'On you head be it, if the king's full buttertubs and his best wine is pushed into the river for the Lake-men to feast on for nothing!'
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Roll - roll - roll - roll, Roll - roll - rolling down the hole! Heave ho! Splash plump! Down they go, down they bump!
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So they sang as first one barrel and then another rumbled to the dark opening and was pushed over into the cold water some feet below. Some barrels were really empty, some were tubs neatly packed with a dwarf each; but down they all went, one after another, with many a clash and a bump, thudding on top of ones below, smacking into the water, jostling against the walls of the tunnel, knocking into one another, and bobbing away down the current…….
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Down the swift dark stream you go, Back to land you once did know! Leave the halls and caverns deep, Leave the northern mountains steep, Where the forest wide and dim Stoops in shadow grey and grim! Float beyond the world of trees Out into the whispering breeze, Past the rushes, past the reeds, Past the marsh's waving weeds, Through the mist that riseth white Up from mere and pool of night! Follow, follow stars that leap Up the heavens cold and steep; Turn when dawn comes over land, Over rapid, over sand, South away! And South away! Seek the sunlight and the day, Back to pasture, back to mead, Where the kine and oxen feed! Back to gardens on the hills, Where the berry swells and fills Under sunlight, under day! South away! And South away! Down the swift dark stream you go Back to lands you once did know!
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Now the very last barrel was being rolled to the doors! In despair and not knowing what else to do, poor little Bilbo caught hold of it and was pushed over the edge with it. Down into the water he fell, splash! Into the cold dark water with the barrel on top of him.
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Chapter 10
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The quays were thronged with hurrying feet. Some began to sing snatches of old songs concerning the return of the King under the Mountain; that it was Thror's grandson not Thror himself that had come back did not bother them at all. Others took up the song and it rolled loud and high over the lake….
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The King beneath the mountains, The King carven in 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, All sorrow fail and sadness At the Mountain King's return!
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So they sang, or very like that, only there was a great deal more of it, and there was much shouting as well as the music of harps and fiddles mixed up with it. Indeed such excitement had not been known in the town in the memory of the oldest grandfather.
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Chapter Fifteen
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Bilbo longed to escape from the dark fortress and to go down and join in the mirth and feasting by the fires. Some of the younger dwarves were moved in their hearts, too, and they muttered that they wished things had fallen out otherwise and that they might welcome such folk as friends; but Thorin scowled. Then the dwarves themselves brought forth harps and instruments regained from the hoard, and made music to soften his mood; but their songs was not an elvish song, and was much like the song they had sung long before in Bilbo's little hobbit hole….
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Under the Mountain dark and tall The King has come into his hall! His foe is dead, the Worm of Dread, And ever so his foes shall fall.
The sword is sharp, the spear is long, The arrow swift, the Gate is strong; The heart is bold that looks on gold; The dwarves no more shall suffer wrong.
The dwarves of yore made mighty spells, While hammers fell like ringing bells In places deep, where dark things sleep, In hollow halls beneath the fells.
On silver necklaces they strung The light of stars, on crowns they hung The dragon-fire, from twisted wire The melody of harps they wrung.
The mountain throne once more is freed! O! wandering folk, the summons heed! Come haste! Come haste! Across the waste! The king of friend and kin has need.
Now call we over mountains cold, 'Come back unto the caverns old!' Here at the Gates the king awaits, His hands are rich with gems and gold.
The King is come unto his hall, Under the Mountain dark and tall. The Worm of Dread is slain and dead, And ever so our foes shall fall!
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This song appeared to please Thorin, and he smiled again and grew merry; and he began reckoning the distance to the Iron Hills and how long it would be before Dain could reach the Lonely Mountain, if he had set out as soon as the message reached him. But Bilbo's heart fell, both at the song and the talk; they sounded much too warlike.
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Chapter Nineteen
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It was on May the First that the two came back at last to the brink of the valley of Rivendell, where stood the Last (or the First) Homely House. Again it was evening, their ponies were tired, especially the one that carried the baggage; and they all felt in need of rest. As they rode down the steep path, Bilbo heard the elves still singing in the trees, as if they had not stopped since he left; and as soon as the riders came down into the lower glades of the wood they burst into song of much the same kind as before. This is something like it;
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The dragon is withered, His bones are now crumbled; His armour is shivered, His splendour is humbled! Though sword shall be rusted, And throne and crown perish With strength that men trusted And wealth that they cherish, Here grass is still growing, And leaves are yet swinging, The white water flowing, And elves are yet singing Come! Tra-la-la-lally! Come back to the valley!
The stars are far brighter Than gems without measure, The moon is far whiter Than silver in treasure; The fire is more shining On hearth in the gloaming, Than gold won by mining, So why go a-roaming? O! Tra-la-la-lally Come back to the valley.
O! Where are you going, So late in returning? The river is flowing, The stars are all burning! O! Whither so laden So sad and so dreary? Here elf and elf-maiden Now welcome the weary With Tra-la-la-lally Come back to the valley, Tra-la-la-lally Fa-la-la-lally Fa-la!
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Then the elves of the valley came out and greeted them and led them across the water to the house of Elrond. There a warm welcome was made them, and there were many eager ears that evening to hear the tale of their adventures.
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Chapter Nineteen
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Bilbo woke to find himself in a white bed, and the moon shining through an open window. Below it many elves were singing loud and clear on the banks of the stream.
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Sing all ye joyful, now sing all together! The wind's in the tree-top, the wind's in the heather, The stars are in blossom, the moon is in flower, And bright are the windows of Night in her tower.
Dance all ye joyful, now dance all together! Soft is the grass, and let foot be like feather! The river is silver, the shadows are fleeting; Merry is May-time, and merry our meeting.
Sing we now softly, and dreams let us weave him! Wind him in slumber and there let us leave him! The wanderer sleepeth. Now soft be his pillow!
Lullaby! Lullaby! Alder and Willow! Sigh no more Pine, till the wind of the morn! Fall Moon! Dark be the land! Hush! Hush! Oak, Ash, and Thorn! Hushed be all water, till dawn is at hand!
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'Well, Merry People!' said Bilbo looking out. 'What time by the moon is this? Your lullaby would waken a drunken goblin! Yet I thank you.'
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Chapter Nineteen
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As all things come to an end, even this story, a day came at last when they were in sight of the country where Bilbo had been born and bred, where the shapes of the land and of the trees were as well known to him as his hands and toes. Coming to a rise he could see his own Hill in the distance, and he stopped suddenly and said:
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Roads go ever ever on, Over rock and under tree, By caves where never sun has shone, By streams that never find the sea; Over snow by winter sown, And through the merry flowers of June, Over grass and over stone, And under mountains in the moon.
Roads go ever ever on Under cloud and under star, Yet feet that wandering have gone Turn at last to home afar. Eyes that fire and sword have seen And horror in the halls of stone Look at last on meadows green And trees and hills they long have known.
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