Bilbo was smiling, with tears in his eyes.
“I miss them.”
He said, and smiled at me. The song had made me a bit sad, so I quickly sang on of Bofur’s song. He would always sing to make me happy.
“There's an inn, there's an inn, there's a merry old inn
beneath an old grey hill,
And there they brew a beer so brown
That the Man in the Moon himself came down
one night to drink his fill.
The ostler has a tipsy cat
that plays a five-stringed fiddle;
And up and down he saws his bow
Now squeaking high, now purring low,
now sawing in the middle.
So the cat on the fiddle played hey-diddle-diddle,
a jig that would wake the dead:
He squeaked and sawed and quickened the tune,
While the landlord shook the Man in the Moon:
‘It’s after three!’ he said.”
Bilbo was laughing, and Gandalf was having a hard time trying not to laugh as well. Even Lord Elrond seemed to be having fun.
“I do remember that song. It left quite the mess.”
Lord Elrond commented. Speaking as one voice, Bilbo and I said;
“At least they didn’t do the dishes.”
We looked at each other and laughed.
“Do sing it, Vanya. Sing the song for me.”
Bilbo asked, already he was tired from that bit of fun. So I sang the last song for him, before he went to rest:
“Blunt the knives and bend the forks!
Smash the bottles and burn the corks!
Chip the glasses and crack the plates!
That's what Bilbo Baggins hates
Cut the cloth and trail the fat!
Leave the bones on the bedroom mat!
Pour the milk on the pantry floor!
Splash the wine on every door!
Dump the crocks in a boiling bowl;
Pound them up with a thumping pole;
And when you've finished, if they are whole,
Send them down the hall to roll!
That's what Bilbo Baggins hates!”