One Ring

It's such a small thing,

That one little ring.

Yet it is the seed,

Of many a cruel deed.

Its inscriptions appear in fire,

The effects of its appearance are dire.

Its holders number eight in all:

Sauron, who lost it to Isildur, son of Elendil the Tall,

Déagol held it next, Sméagol killed him for it

From Sméagol, it came to Bilbo, the Hobbit,

Bilbo passed it on to Frodo, who with it had an adventure

Tom Bombadil held it then, and was unaffected by its lure

Back to Frodo it was given, until with Shelob he came face to face

Samwise, O faithful Samwise, he took it then, to keep it safe.

Back again to Frodo it was returned, but Gollum, He-who-was-once-Sméagol

Violently he reclaimed his Precious, that thing, that ring, he treasured above all

But then from the edge he slipped, he and the ring plummeted into fire, into ruin

They landed in the boiling lava, in dreaded Mount Doom, in Orodruin.

It was such a small thing,

That one little ring.

Yet it was the seed,

Of many a cruel deed.