Tom Bombadil

The man of no worry,

Glides through dicey woods,

All the way singing of merry,

He has no time for other moods,

Is at the service of Lady Goldenberry!

Master of old forest and weather;

Converses only in rhythm and rhyme,

Moves swift as a feather,

Wrings the woody darkness with chime;

Gives shelter to hobbits from farther.

Daring harrowed old man willow;

Obeys the bulk Bombadil’s murmur,

And spits out the hobbits to wallow;

His trunks and twigs stop the tremor.

Thus Tom proves to be a man of mellow.

He lives amidst the horrifying forest,

Alone he roams day and night at peace,

The hobbits amazed without rest,

At his aplomb songs that never cease,

And at his heart and thought of the purest.

He knows all in dark and light,

Can sense and see the impalpable and invisible,

Even beyond the day and night;

His immense knowledge is invincible.

Daring dark ring never tried his might!

I wish for such godliness

That doesn’t have an iota of enmity,

I pray for his unconditional kindness.

That is not touched by any calamity,

And Tom Bombadil is the man of all goodness!