Hark, Ol' Bombadil, master of the Water,
Who caught fair Goldberry, who is the River Daughter,
Hark, Ol' Bombadil, master of the Wood,
Who walked in the Forest, afore the Mountains stood,
Hark, Ol' Bombadil, master of the Hill,
Who danced in the glade, and does dance there still,
Hark, Ol' Bombadil, master of the Reed,
His old, happy songs are the spring-time seed,
Hark, Ol' Bombadil, master of the Willow
Goes singing down the path, with a ring a dong dillo.
I live in Michigan, and the only good thing about that would be the snow. I like the cold. I enjoy writing, though to date the only thing I have managed to work on consistently would be fanfiction.