"No More Games"
(Pippin)

In winter when the Shire was white
With sparkling snow, I used to play.
When I with my companions fought,
Our swords were sticks, our battles gay.

Our laughter was our battle-cry,
Then when we tired, we used to talk
Of restlessness that bid us all
Go on another endless walk.

And when at last the winds blew cold,
The sunlight turned to starry blue,
We huddled close and trudged on home,
Forgetting all the day's to-do.

But now there is no end of day,
No fire and tea to find back home.
I almost miss the restlessness
And wonder why I chose to roam.

Now here I find you wandering,
My dearest cousin, closest friend,
With broken arm, cheeks wet with tears-
Oh, won't this nightmare ever end?

Come and lay your head upon me,
Let me hold your frozen hand.
Help will be here soon, I promise.
You can cry; I understand.

The winter snow, no longer white,
Is red with blood of many names.
I'm young but even I can see:
I know that there are no more games.

...end...