They say we sneaks, they say we creeps - nasty, wicked lies. We is not sneaker, my love, we is seekerSomething lost, my love? Something hidden, my dear? Not to worry, not to worry, silly little Men with their silly little trinkets - we shall find them for you! Anything that is lost, we can find! Good Sméagol sneaks and seeks and smells it out
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I've lost my way back to Missing Mile.
Can you find it?
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Trust good Sméagol, let him lead you, we shall not hurt you! Not till we are alone in the black, and then, oh! how we shall feast!
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...Tell usssss, what does it look like?
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