Woody’s features lightened at the suggestion that the class could rewrite the words to the song. He was sure his Da would not mind something that had to do with taking care of the Party Tree. As he thought, his chalk moved quickly over his slate, drawing the mallorn tree as it would be all flowered out at the Spring Faire. Drawing, he found, always helped him to concentrate.
He stood up once he was done and cleared his throat a bit. Before he could lose his nerve, he recited his reworking of the first verse:
Ruffian, spare our Party Tree!
Touch not a single bough!
In youth it sheltered me,
And I'll protect it now.
'Twas Samwise Gamgee’s able hand
That placed it near his cot:
There, ruffian, let it stand,
Thy axe shall harm it not!
He sat down quickly, the tips of his ears burning, hoping no one would laugh at his try.