The fire

sets it the east,

where the eye that never sleeps.

The cries of wailing sheep,

burns the sky

far beyond when this wretched eye

gets down upon its throne,

after which when the ring is thrown

thus a nine fingered one

cries not of himself

cries not of their sorrow

but cries within the pain

of the self.

Why then you, small you,

Sam you are

Sam you shall stay

and when you come home

another fire has to be led 

into the waters of Bree.

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