THE HOUSE OF TYOPE

Tuesday, 30 July 2002 by David Salo

[Translated from the Original Roggish]

There is a house in Balrog Cuttings
That belongs to Tyopë
And it's been the ruin of at least one poor 'rog
And Bha, I know, it's me.

My mother was a Nazgűl
She got me my first wings
My father was a shiftless 'rog
Down in Balrog Cuttings.

Now the only things a Balrog needs
Are a sword and whip of flame;
And the only time that he's satisfied
Is when he's with some dame.

I went to Tyopë's temple
She taught me how to speak
But to all the folks who read my words
It might as well be Greek.

Now, mothers, tell your roglings
That they're not to be like me;
Don't let them learn a mortal tongue
In the house of Tyopë.

I've got one wing made of shadow,
The other of flesh and blood;
I'm going back to Balrog Cuttings
To be misunderstood.

There is a house in Balrog Cuttings
That belongs to Tyopë
And it's been the ruin of at least one poor 'rog
And bha, I know, it's me.

[Roggy version]

There is a house in Balrog Cuttings
That b'longs to Ty-o-pee
And it's been the ruin of at lesat one poor 'rog
And Bha, I know, it's me.

My mohter was a Nazgűl
She got me my first wnings
My fahter was a shif'less 'rog
Dwon in Balrog Cuttings.

Nwo the only thnigs a Blarog needs
Are a swrod and wihp of flaem
And the lonly tmie taht he's stratisfied
Is wehn he's wiht smoe daem.

I wnet to Tyop'es temlpe
She taguht me how to spkea
But to lal the floks who read my wrods
It mghit as wlel be Greenk.

Nwo mohtres, tlel yruo roglnigs
Taht tehyr'e nto ot be liek me:
Dnot' lte tehm lraen a molrat tounge
In teh Huose fo Tyope.

Iv'e gto one wgin made of sahdow
Teh ohter of flseh and bloond
Im' going bax to Blarong Cuttings
To be misnunderstoond.

Tehre si a huoes ni Blargno Ctuttigns
Taht blogns to Yt-po-ee
Nad ist' bnen teh rnui fo ta lsaet neo opro org
Dna Bah, I wonk, s'it me.