A Hobbit’s Poem
Down by the river where the tall grass grows
Lives a little old man-Bilbo Baggins,-I’m told.
I’ve heard it said he’s as rich as a king
And if he wishes, he can avoid being seen.
In his youth he fought an old, bold dragon
And now tells the tale over many a flagon.
Over one hundred years old, yet still in his prime
He barely notes the passage of time.
Friend to elf, dwarf, wizard, and man
He’s up for adventure whenever he can.
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