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Down in the bowels of Middle Earth,
A fearsome man of ample girth
Is contemplating fiendish schemes
To help achieve his evil dreams.
Surrounded by his acolytes,
The blind, yet loyal Dolanites,
From deep within his iv’ry tower,
He plots his route to total power.
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Meanwhile, up in Tolka Park,
A candle flickers in the dark.
The Hobbit, clad in armour bright,
Whose word keeps Middle Earth alight,
Upholder of the moral truth,
The beacon for ambitious youth,
Ensures this vile usurper’s threat
Will be, by righteousness, well-met.
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Oh Lord, get off thy telephone,
And look down from thy stately throne,
And see the Force of Darkness spread
It’s tentacles, with fear and dread.
And grant the Hobbit, by thy leave,
The power to once again achieve
A vict’ry o’er the Evil Lord,
And put him cleanly to the sword.