The Sad Tale of Boromir
Long, long ago,
In the land of Middle-Earth,
A man by the name of Boromir
Did indeed go
On a perilous journey to
Cast the One Ring into Mount Doom
And vanquish the Dark Lord Sauron
As part of a 9-member crew.
And so this Fellowship of the Ring
Of men, hobbits, a dwarf, an elf and a wizard
Set forth from Rivendell
With high hopes like spring.
Alas! Poor Boromir! Poor lad!
His tale is quite sad,
For the Ring is a tempting thing
And danger came following.
It was near the Anduin
That Boromir succumbed to temptation
And tried to steal the ring
From Frodo when he did not listen
At Boromir's request to have it.
Thus, Frodo fled
And Boromir realized
The terrible sin he did commit.
While searching for their missing comrade,
Uruk-hai came upon Boromir's party of three,
And in his attempt to protect Merry and Pippin,
Boromir was slain, the poor lad!
Or so Aragorn, Gimli and Legolas thought
As they arrived at the scene distraught.
"Farewell, Aragorn. Go to Minas Tirith to save my people. I have failed," Boromir said
And collapsed like the dead.
But he was alive, alive!
When they sent him down the river,
Singing a lament for his "passing."
Poor, poor Boromir, what a surprise
To find himself afloat a raft
Amid the wracking pain of arrow wounds
And the distant roar of the Falls of Rauros.
His friends were oh so daft
To send a companion to his death;
Oh, his tale is so terribly sad!
Alas! Poor Boromir! Poor lad!
Was cursing and screaming to his very last breath.
