An orc with no spear (A pub with no beer)

It's lonesome away from your kindred and all
By the campfire at night where the wild trolls fall
But there's nothin' so lonesome, so dull or so drear
Than to stand 'round and wait with an orc with no spear

Now the company's anxious tor the quota to come
There's a faraway look on the troll with his drum
The leader's all cranky and the cook's acting queer
What a terrible thing is an orc with no spear

A Nazgûl rides up with his Morgul blade hilt
He walks into a tent, pulls a note from his coat
But the scowl on his face quickly turns to a sneer
When the leader cries out: "These orcs got not spears!"

There's a troll on the doorstep, for Uruks he waits
But the boss is inside getting drunk with his mates
He hurries for cover and he cringes in fear
There's no place for a troll round an orc with no spear

Then in comes Saruman with all his smooth lies
He throws down his bomb, wipes the sweat from his eyes
But when he is told he says, "What's this I hear?
I've walked five-thousand miles to some orcs with no spears?"

Old Grishnakh, the blacksmith, the first time in his life
Has gone home cold sober to the land of the Eye
The Nazgûl all say: "You're back early, me dear"

Then he breaks down and tells them "The orcs got no spears"

It's lonesome away from your kindred and all
By the campfire at night where the wild trolls fall
But there's nothin' so lonesome, so dull or so drear
Than to stand 'round and wait with an orc with no spear

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