I’ve friends in most the races now
Hobbits, Dwarves, and Men
and — with them all — as I recall
can share a smoke or grin.

But there’s one group of Beings
I can’t quite figure out…
I always make a fool of me
whenever Elves about.

It’s not that they’re unfriendly–
Though they treat me like a child
They’re just so Otherworldly–
Distant, Free, and Wild

They tower there above me
Like moonlight come to skin
Their eyes glitt’ring like diamonds
So pale, and cold, and thin…

They whisper jokes in Elvish
and laugh over my head
They make me feel so foolish
I wish that I were dead…

But when it comes to courage
No finer can be found
And they’re the best beside you
when Trouble’s sniffing round.

Yes, friends among the Elf Lords
is quite a wondrous treat
But I’d rather be a Hobbit
from head to furry feet.

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