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.
