In My Hobbit House

In my Hobbit house
The doors are round
A fire is always burning
The smell is the best around

Not musty or dusty
Just clean and earthy
Come in come in
There's no need to worry

I've a kettle of stew
Hanging over the hearth
Help yourself to a bowl
You'll soon taste it's true worth

As it fills your body
With warmth most relaxing
We can sit back and tell tales
But nothing too taxing

Firing up a bowl
Blowing smoke rings at one another
Our hairy feet propped up
Each toe more hairy than the other

Being a Hobbit in my Hobbit house
It's a life of labor mixed with leisure
Most things revolve around food
About eight meals a day for our pleasure

In my Hobbit house
We quarrel for fun
Over flagons of mead and beer
Sometimes until up comes the sun

But it's always a laugh
For always in the end
We're grateful our lives aren't as exciting
As that poor bastard who lives at Bag End