Now every Friday, every week
Green Dragon Inn is what we seek
In Bywater, it proudly stands
And folk they come, across the land
And what is it that draws us in
To Barmy's little humble Inn?
Why do we walk in through that door
Across the creaking wooden floor?
The ale perhaps? It taste's quite nice
And sold at quite a reasonable price
The food is quite enticing too
Though sadly pies are much too few...
It's not the rug that's on the floor
Which barely is a rug no more
And surely it's not all the chairs
Though we'd complain if they weren't there
Is it the fire that burns so bright
At which we stare with child's delight?
And my, it is a warming fire!
It warms the bones, this wintery Shire
Maybe its the tales all told
That bring us in from out the cold
Or is it all the lovely tunes
Whose melodies can fill the room
But wait, I really have to say
It's not the music that is played
And even with the story chair
You can't tell tales with no-one there
You need a singer for a song
And then some folk to dance along
What makes this Inn the place to be
Is all the lovely company!
I'm sure you all agree it's true
What makes this place is you! And you!
We hobbit folk should feel so proud
Just remember, no bagpipes allowed!
