Frodo Baggins

Frodo Baggins is his name
Though Bilbo, now, has got just the same
At the Party he cried “Speech!”
And then heard from afar a Nazgûl screech.
He got stabbed up on Weathertop
Poor thing.

Started anew in Rivendell
Then on to Moria where Gandalf fell
They got to safety but in sorrow
And could not feel better upon the morrow
He’d a pitiful look upon his face.
Poor thing.

Started anew in Lothlórien
Him and the dwarf and elves and men
They met the Lady Galadriel
Her mirror foretelling things so fell
They went off again as was their job.
No hope.

At the Falls of Rauros they parted ways
Frodo and Sam headed to rocky maze
Meet up with Gollum and make him their guide
During the daytime they have to hide
Unless they be caught.
Poor things.

The Black Gate they cannot go through
Though Sméagol he knows of a passage new
So on they plod towards their goal
The Ring begins to take its toll
Upon the Hobbit that carries it
Poor Frodo.

They rest and speak with Faramir
But then go onward while feeling much fear
Climbing the stairs above the dead city
Looking down seems to make them giddy
Then Frodo sends Sam away.
Poor Sam.

Into the lair all dark and rank
Frodo hates it; Sméagol gets no thanks
Shelob comes to sting the lad
And she succeeds; no hope to be had
Until Sam comes.
Good boy.

Captured by orcs, taken to the tower.
In the corner does poor Frodo cower
But then Sam rescues him
In the light so dim
Gives him the Ring; they start again
Poor things.

On to Mount Doom they crawl
And many times does Frodo fall
All cut up, bruised, and dehydrated
Followed by orcs and Gollum-so-hated
Poor things.

The Ring is destroyed in a roundabout way
And evil is gone till another day
Frodo must leave this Middle-earth
So he does, and finds again mirth
In the West.
Nice Frodo.