The Inn Of The Prancing Pony

Gather around dear friends, and I'll tell you a tale.
Of what can befall a young hobbit, who's taken with ale.
 
My story takes place in the town of Bree
I'd gone seeking my fortune at The Prancing Pony
Pies, puddings and fishcakes I'd taken with me
To trade with Barliman for a reasonable fee.
 
Barliman protested 'Your price is too high'
'For fishcakes, puddings and your spectacular pies'
'If you're agreeable, I'd like to offer instead'
'Free drinks for the night, and a nice cosy bed'
 
'That's grand' I said 'If you'll throw in a meal'
'What respectable hobbit could ignore such a deal?'
So he poured me a pint of his finest brew
Then served me a bowl of steaming hot stew.
 
Well the drinks kept flowing and before to long
There I was up on a table, singing a song
A crowd had gathered, people wanted to know
Who was this strange hobbit performing this show?
 
When I had finished, a man asked for a chat
An odd looking fellow, with an old floppy hat
'Your singing and dancing are impressive indeed'
'A wager I'll set you, the stake your fine steed'
 
'All you need do is to touch the ceiling'
'Of this fine Inn, A bet that's appealling?'
'I'll take that bet' I replied feeling brash
'Three attempts I demand, and i'll start in a flash'
 
Back up on the table I wearily stood
Swaying from the ale, belly full of food
This is easy I thought, as I stood tippy-toes
Stretching my arms up, i'd failed 'Oh noes
'
The crowd below they roared with laughter
'You're too short' They called 'To reach to those rafters'
'Not a problem' I cried, 'I'll jump up instead'
'Though I must be careful not to bash my poor head'
 
With a giant leap I reached up so high
The watching crowd gasped, as I soared through the sky
Alas I couldn't reach, but t'was a valiant try
'This is impossible' I mumbled, and let out a sigh.
 
For my last attempt, I needed a plan
I wasn't losing my pony to that odd looking man
I pondered the problem scratching my chin
But just how do I reach the roof of this inn?
 
'Of course' I exclaimed 'Everyone follow me'
I walked out of the inn and found a suitable tree
Up the trunk I climbed, then onto the branches
If not for the ale, i'd never take such chances.
 
I clambered onto the roof, and looked down to the floor
'There' I cried, 'I've made it and whats more'
'Never again shall you mock my small size'
'Now help me back down, so I can claim my prize'
 
'Closing time fine fellows' Barliman called
People started leaving, and he bolted the doors
So beware of to much ale, I stand here as proof
This silly drunk hobbit, spent the night on that roof.