Drabble/prabble (poems of exactly 100 words) provided by Liza Jones

Concerning Hobbits
Nobody knows
Why a hobbit grows,
Not a hair on his face
But lots on his toes.

Their homes can be found,
In holes in the ground,
And the doors, like their bellies,
Are broad, fat and round.

Quick of wit, hand and eye,
Of men still quite shy,
They can vanish like magic,
If one should pass by.

No shoes on their feet,
six times daily they eat,
Had a plague and a battle,
But not one defeat.

They are filled up with mirth,
And love well-tilled earth,
But they seldom stray far
From the land of their birth.