The Adventures of Tom Bombadil. Christina Scull

down

      one night to drink his fill.

      The ostler has a tipsy cat

      that plays a five-stringed fiddle;

      And up and down he runs his bow,

      Now squeaking high, now purring low,

      now sawing in the middle.

      The landlord keeps a little dog

      that is mighty fond of jokes;

      When there’s good cheer among the guests,

      He cocks an ear at all the jests

      and laughs until he chokes.

      They also keep a hornéd cow

      as proud as any queen;

      But music turns her head like ale,

      And makes her wave her tufted tail

      and dance upon the green.

      And O! the row of silver dishes

      and the store of silver spoons!

      For Sunday there’s a special pair,

      And these they polish up with care

      on Saturday afternoons.

      The Man in the Moon was drinking deep,

      and the cat began to wail;

      A dish and a spoon on the table danced,

      The cow in the garden madly pranced,

      and the little dog chased his tail.

      The Man in the Moon took another mug,

      and then rolled beneath his chair;

      And there he dozed and dreamed of ale,

      Till in the sky the stars were pale,

      and dawn was in the air.

      The ostler said to his tipsy cat:

      ‘The white horses of the Moon,

      They neigh and champ their silver bits;

      But their master’s been and drowned his wits,

      and the Sun’ll be rising soon!’

      So the cat on his fiddle played hey-diddle-diddle,

      a jig that would wake the dead:

      He squeaked and sawed and quickened the tune,

      While the landlord shook the Man in the Moon:

      ‘It’s after three!’ he said.

      They rolled the Man slowly up the hill

      and bundled him into the Moon,

      While his horses galloped up in rear,

      And the cow came capering like a deer,

      and a dish ran up with a spoon.

      Now quicker the fiddle went deedle-dum-diddle;

      the dog began to roar,

      The cow and the horses stood on their heads;

      The guests all bounded from their beds

      and danced upon the floor.

      With a ping and a pong the fiddle-strings broke!

      the cow jumped over the Moon,

      And the little dog laughed to see such fun,

      And the Saturday dish went off at a run

      with the silver Sunday spoon.

      The round Moon rolled behind the hill,

      as the Sun raised up her head.

      She hardly believed her fiery eyes;

      For though it was day, to her surprise

      they all went back to bed!

      

      The Man in the Moon had silver shoon,

      and his beard was of silver thread;

      With opals crowned and pearls all bound

      about his girdlestead,

      In his mantle grey he walked one day

      across a shining floor,

      And with crystal key in secrecy

      he opened an ivory door.

      On a filigree stair of glimmering hair

      then lightly down he went,

      And merry was he at last to be free

      on a mad adventure bent.

      In diamonds white he had lost delight;

      he was tired of his minaret

      Of tall moonstone that towered alone

      on a lunar mountain set.

      He would dare any peril for ruby and beryl

      to broider his pale attire,

      For new diadems of lustrous gems,

      emerald and sapphire.

      He was lonely too with nothing to do

      but stare at the world of gold

      And heark to the hum that would distantly come

      as gaily round it rolled.

      At plenilune in his argent moon

      in his heart he longed for Fire:

      Not the limpid lights of wan selenites;

      for red was his desire,

      For crimson and rose and ember-glows,

      for flame with burning tongue,

      For the scarlet skies in a swift sunrise

      when a stormy day is young.

      He’d have seas of blues, and the living hues

      of forest green and fen;

      And he yearned for the mirth of the populous earth

      and the sanguine blood of men.

      He coveted song, and laughter long,

      and viands hot, and wine,

      Eating pearly cakes of light snowflakes

      and drinking thin moonshine.

      He twinkled his feet, as he thought of the meat,

      of pepper, and punch galore;

      And he tripped unaware on his slanting stair,

      and like a meteor,

      A star in flight, ere Yule one night

      flickering down he fell

      From his laddery path to a foaming bath

      in the windy Bay of Bel.

      He began to think, lest he melt and sink,

      what in the moon to do,

      When a fisherman’s boat found him far afloat

      to the amazement of the crew,

      Caught in their net all shimmering wet