A short, non-Tolkien poem that teaches you to be content with your name, no matter how funny it sounds.
There was a guy named Burstelpfan
Not Bill or Hob or Nob.
And he was not a happy man
Would rather be named Bob.
A parcel in a postal van
Came from a friend of old.
On it a card: "TO BURSTELPFAN"
In it a ton of gold.
"I guess", he said, "I'm lucky then,
And glad and full of glee.
'Cause were I not named Burstelpfan,
This wouldn't be for me."