11 FASTITOCALON


    Look, there is Fastitocalon!


    An island good to land upon,


    Although ''tis rather bare.


    Come, leave the sea! And let us run,


    Or dance, or lie down in the sun!


    See, gulls are sitting there!


    Beware!


    Gulls do not sink.


    There they may sit, or strut and prink:


    Their part it is to tip the wink,


    If anyone should dare


    Upon that isle to settle,


    Or only for a while to get


    Relief from sickness or the wet,


    Or maybe boil a kettle.


    Ah, foolish folk, who land on HIM,


    And little fires proceed to trim


    And hope perhaps for tea!


    It may be that His shell is thick,


    He seems to sleep; but He is quick,


    And floats now in the sea


    With guile;


    And when He hears their tapping feet,


    Or faintly feels the sudden heat,


    With smile


    HE dives,


    And promptly turning upside-down


    He tips them off, and deep they drown,


    And lose their silly lives


    To their surprise,


    Be wise!


    There are many monsters in the Sea,


    But none so perilous as HE,


    Old horny Fastitocalon,


    Whose mighty kindred all have gone,


    The last of the old Turtle-fish.


    So if to save your life you wish


    Then I advise:


    Pay heed to sailors'' ancient lore,


    Set foot on no uncharted shore!


    Or better still,


    Your days at peace on Middle-earth


    In mirth


    Fulfill!