Lina

Come and give me a biscuit or two

In the north is a town on the edge of the fields
Home to hobbits and sheepdogs alike
Here a mother of one shook her head in despair
Her lass had expressed her dislike
No vegs she would eat nor no taters or meat
She just wailed and she yelled and she cried
A whimper and frown as she jumped up and down

Sweet Pie

Now it’s time for supper
Belly rumbling loud
Some want pork with crackling and some mushrooms
A dish which would make me ma proud
But still there is something else
The food, I want tonight
And all the hobbits join this song with joy
Come here, enjoy a bite

Sweet pie! Whoa!
Sweet pie! Oh-oh-a!
Sweet pie!

A colour dear to me

A snifter made of sturdy glass, as clear as autumn morn
I hold it gently in me hand, although me thoughts are torn
For dark and cold are nearer now, the light is fading fast
And while I still have things to do, I think about the past

Dear Mother and Father,

These past few weeks have been so exciting! Lina organised a secret journey for anyone who wanted to visit a certain hobbit on his birthday, so we all gathered in Stock the middle of the night, so no one would catch us. I was quite surprised at how many hobbits turned up! I don't think we can keep our secret journey very secret for long if so many hobbits know of it!

Dear Notebook..

As the clever poet I am, I will call this diary page: "Busy bee...the notebook has eyes to see...." ((crumbs of muffin lies all over the page..))

Dear Mother and Father,

Drink the Shire Dry

Time to do what’s good and right
Time to join the fight tonight
For the big folk are coming with their heads up high
And they swear they’ll drink our little Shire dry

Plunder the Biscuit Jar

Hunger grows in darkness tonight
I sneak out me bedroom door
Now is the time, I plan to go
Plunder the biscuit jar

Ma’s asleep and snoring loud
As I tiptoe down the hall
Joined by me dog in the kitchen as we
Plunder the biscuit jar