Hopper Italian Quarter Gloucester

Hopper Italian Quarter GloucesterHopper Interior Model ReadingHopper Hotel by the RailroadHopper High Road
'Come on, Sam!' said Merry. 'There's more stored in your head than you let on about.''I don't know about that,' said Sam. 'But how would this suit? It ain't what I call proper poetry, if you understand me: just a bit of nonsense. But these old images here brought it to my mind.' Standing up, with his hands behind his back, as if he was at school, he began to sing to an old tune.Troll sat alone on his seat of stone,And munched and 'My lad,' said Troll, 'this bone I stole.But what be bones that lie in a hole?Thy nuncle was dead as a lump o' lead,Afore I found his shinbone.Tinbone! Thinbone!He can spare a share for a poor old troll,For he don't need his shinbone.'Said Tom: 'I don't see why the likes o' theeWithout axin' leave should go makin' freeWith the shank or the shin o' my father's kin;So hand the old bone over!Rover! Trover!Though dead he be, it belongs to he;So hand the old bone over!'mumbled a bare old bone;For many a year he had gnawed it near,For meat was hard to come by.Done by! Gum by!In a case in the hills he dwelt alone,And meat was hard to come by.
Up came Tom with his big boots on.Said he to Troll: 'Pray, what is yon?For it looks like the shin o' my nuncle Tim,As should be a-lyin' in graveyard.Caveyard! Paveyard!This many a year has Tim been gone,And I thought he were lyin' in graveyard.'