Rohan me a gap,

where all mine were Moira’s.

Why Mordor all that which has no Shire,

only which a precious one ring,

that burzum a lugburz that hate this grishnack of an elven Ent.

Ack,

Why do I always Lewis that Tolkein,

Damn you Morris.

If it weren’t for your essay on Fangorn,

I’d be running a long like rabbit out of Mirkwood

into that night,

where Alice would at least drink a cup of alcohol tea,

and loving one to two hoopla of my Lewis into all these.

πŸ˜›πŸ˜œπŸ˜›πŸ˜œπŸ˜›πŸ˜πŸ˜ΈπŸ˜ΈπŸ†•πŸ†™

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