badger - Racconti di Tolkien

Lamps gleamed within his house, and white was the bedding;

in the bright honey-moon Badger-folk came treading,

danced down under Hill, and Old Man Willow

tapped, tapped at window-pane, as they slept on the pillow,

on the bank in the reeds River-woman sighing

heard old Barrow-wight in his mound crying.

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Old Tom Bombadil lay upon his pillow

sweeter than Goldberry, quieter than the Willow,

snugger than the Badger-folk or the Barrow-dwellers;

slept like a humming-top, snored like a bellows.

He woke in morning-light, whistled like a starling,

sang, ‘Come, derry-dol, merry-dol, my darling!’

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‘Go out! Shut the door, and never come back after!

Take away gleaming eyes, take your hollow laughter!

Go back to grassy mound, on your stony pillow

lay down your bony head, like Old Man Willow,

like young Goldberry, and Badger-folk in burrow!

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‘Now, old Badger-brock, do you hear me talking?

You show me out at once! I must be a-walking.

Show me to your backdoor under briar-roses;

then clean grimy paws, wipe your earthy noses!

Go back to sleep again on your straw pillow,

like fair Goldberry and Old Man Willow!’

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Out came Badger-brock with his snowy forehead

and his dark blinking eyes. In the hill he quarried

with his wife and many sons. By the coat they caught him,

pulled him inside their earth, down their tunnels brought him.

Inside their secret house, there they sat a-mumbling:

‘Ho, Tom Bombadil’ Where have you come tumbling,

bursting in the front-door?

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