Et simpelt digt jeg lavede før sommerferien til faget engelsk. Derfor er digtet også på engelsk - og henvender sig nok mest til fans af Ringenes Herre.


1. Sméagol

He never thought of finding a friend,

love or honour, only the power of the ring,

Precious, precious,

Forever infectious it changed his whole,
his heart, his body, his nature, his soul

Precious, precious,

Never did The One Ring leave his side,
not until, of course, it was stolen with pride

Precious, precious,

What did he do then? He seeked with greed,
until flames encircled him
& death took the lead


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