Roll for Ragnarok

A drinking song by Kester Proudfoot, inspired by his and his friends’ adventure in the Trollshaws.

A troll named Bert and brother Ollie, and their brother Trollkin, too,
chased a goat across the Trollshaws, for their goat-and-gravel stew.
Bert said, “I’ve heard of better food, from our old dad who weren’t a liar.
I can smell them from afar: those tasty hobbits of the Shire!”

Block the door, lads, with the footstool for the trolls are out to play!

Bert and Ollie went a-hunting, and came little Trollkin, too,
from the Bounds to Little Delving, hunting hobbits for their stew.
They found the hobbits locked away, inside a larder deep and cold,
and they learned a frightened hobbit’s even hungrier than trolls!

Block the door, lads, with the footstool for the trolls are out to play!

O’er the grumbling of his belly, Trollkin heard a fearful sound.
“It’s the finch!” he cried in terror, “and now morning’s come around!”
Bert and Ollie went a-running, for the Sun was so unkind,
but poor Trollkin was the slower and they left him far behind.

Block the door, lads, with the footstool for the trolls are out to play!

Hobbits came out of their larder as the day began to dawn.
Hungry Trollkin stopped to grab a lazy hobbit as she yawned.
In the Sun he turned to stone, on that fine morning in the Shire,
and there’s naught left now of Trollkin but a footstool by the fire!

Prop your feet upon the footstool for the trolls have gone away!