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Suddenly he slopped. There was an answer, or so he thought; but it seemed to come from behind him, away down the path further back in the Forest. He turned round and listened, and soon there could be no doubt: someone was singing a song; a deep glad voice was singing carelessly and happily, but it was singing merry dol! deny dol! and merry-o,Goldberry, Goldberry, merry yellow berry-o!Poor old Willow-man, you tuck your roots away!Tom’s in a hurry now. Evening will follow day.nonsense:Hey dol! merry dol! ring a dong dillo!Ring a dong! hop along! fal lal the willow!Tom Bom, jolly Tom, Tom Bombadillo!Half hopeful and half afraid of some new danger, Frodo and Sam now both stood still. Suddenly out of a long string of nonsense-words (or so they seemed) the voice rose up loud and clear and burst into this song:Hey! Come merry dot! derry dol! My darling!Light goes the weather-wind and the feathered starling.Down along under Hill, shining in the sunlight,Waiting on the doorstep for the cold starlight,There my pretty lady is. River-woman’s daughter,Slender . Can you hear him singing?Hey! Come
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