About

I galloped to Weathertop like a gale, and I reached it before sundown on my second day from Bree - and they were there before me. They drew away from me, for they felt the coming of my anger and they dared not face it while the Sun was in the sky.

Hey dol! merry doll ring a dong dillo!

Ring a dong! hop along! fal lal the willow!

Tom Bom, jolly Tom, Tom Bombadillo!

Then another clear voice, as young and as ancient as Spring, like the song of a glad water flowing down into the night from a bright morning in the hills, came falling like silver to meet them: