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Poem - The Secret of the Battle of the Greenfields

posted Mar 23, 2016, 1:27 AM by Peppy Bristlebrush
By Hollyberye, a Shire cook

The Secret of the Battle of the Greenfields   

When Golfimbul woke this very day
He was aching for a Hobbit fray
He dragged his hideous frame off
A soiled sack that was not very soft
The Gobby cook was slopping out
A soup of weeds and piggy snout
Golfy grabbed a filthy bowl
With sharp edges, time had taken its toll
After a lousy night of broken sleep
Golfy was hoping for roasted sheep
Instead he got this watery grub
It tasted foul and contained many slugs
He felt a lurch along his middle
The slugs went down, how they wiggled
“Pass the bread!” he shouted aloud
Over his head hung a dark cloud
His Gobby mates tossed him a hunk
Full of worms and gravelly chunks
Golfimbul cracked another tooth
An awful breakfast, that’s the truth!

Now over in the Hobbit camp
Bullroarer Took had slept like a champ
The night before he’d eaten well
Of apple pie with a sauce of caramel
And before that he’d had roasted chicken
With taters in a broth perfectly thickened
He washed it down with brew from clover
Not so much as to get a hangover
He’d gone to bed with great contentment
And dreamed of a victorious presentment
He was woken feeling quite well rested
Certain that he would not be bested
The smell of bacon warmed his heart
He polished it off with a savoury tart
The charming cook proffered some biscuits
Alongside the tenderest tasty brisket
But best of all he drank his tea
With a touch of honey from the bees
He rose from the table quite refreshed
Ready for battle without undue stress

As the foes approached across the Green
The Goblins looked mean though smelled unclean
But the Hobbits could hear their stomachs rumble
The Gobby’s were hungry and their insides all tumbled
The Hobbit army was quite well fed
With a full stomach, they had nothing to dread
But they paused to have a little snack
Such foresight! They’d packed honey cakes in their packs
The Gobby’s had nothing on which to gnaw
Except for an Aleford poisoned black crow claw
Golfimbul washed that down with sour turnip bile
While our Took quenched his thirst with beer for a while
All the Goblin Chief managed was a baleful glance
Our Took was quick to take aim and grab his chance
Took lobbed a spoiled turnip straight in his mouth
Then knocked off Golfy’s head with a resounding clout
The battle that day was won on good food
The starving Goblins were thoroughly stewed
The moral is that those with the best pies
Will always oust the bad Goblin guys

This was one of three poems by three different poets, made specially for Bullroarer Took Day 2016.