There is an inn, a merry old inn, 
beneath an old grey hill, 
And there they brew a beer so brown 
That the Man in the Moon himself came down 
one night to drink his fill. 

The ostler has a tipsy cat 
that plays a five-stringed fiddle; 
And up and down he runs his bow, 
Now squeaking high, now purring low, 
now sawing in the middle. 

The landlord keeps a little dog 
that is mighty fond of jokes; 
When there's good cheer among the guests, 
He cocks and ear at all the jests 
and laughs until he chokes. 

They also keep a horned cow 
as proud as any queen; 
But music turns her head like ale, 
And makes her wave her tufted tail 
and dance upon the green. 

And O! the row of silver dishes 
and the store of silver spoons! 
For Sunday there's a special pair, 
And these they polish up with care 
on Saturday afternoons. 

The Man in the Moon was drinking deep, 
and the cat began to wail; 
A dish and a spoon on the table danced, 
The cow in the garden madly pranced, 
and the little dog chased his tail. 

The Man in the Moon took another mug, 
and then rolled beneath his chair; 
And there he dozed and dreamed of ale, 
Till in the sky the stars were pale, 
and dawn was in the air. 

Then the ostler said to his tipsy cat: 
'The white horses of the Moon, 
They neigh and champ their silver bits; 
But their master's been and drowned his wits, 
and the Sun'll be rising soon!' 

So the cat on the fiddle played hey-diddle-diddle, 
a jig that would wake the dead; 
He squeaked and sawed and quickened the tune, 
While the landlord shook the Man in the Moon: 
'It's after three!' he said. 

They rolled the Man slowly up the hill 
and bundled him into the Moon, 
While his horses galloped up in rear, 
And the cow came capering like a deer, 
and a dish ran up with the spoon. 

Now quicker the fiddle went deedle-dum-diddle; 
the dog began to roar, 
The cow and the horses stood on their heads; 
The guests all bounded from their beds 
and danced upon the floor. 

With a ping and a pang the fiddle-strings broke! 
the cow jumped over the Moon, 
And the little dog laughed to see such fun, 
And the Saturday dish went off at a run 
with the silver Sunday spoon. 

The round Moon rolled behind the hill, 
as the Sun raised up her head. 
She hardly believed her fiery eyes; 
For though it was day, to her surprise 
they all went back to bed.

Quoted from J.R.R. Tolkiens The Fellowship of the Ring pages 216-218.

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