My dear Bagginses and Boffins, Tooks and Brandybucks, Grubbs, Chubbs, Hornblowers, Bolgers, Bracegirdles and Proudfoots.
Today is my one hundred and eleventh birthday!
Alas, eleventy-one years is far too short a time to live among such excellent and admirable hobbits. I don’t know half of you half as well as I should like, and I like less than half of you half as well as you deserve.
I, uh, I h-have things to do. I’ve put this off for far too long.
I regret to announce — this is The End. I am going now. I bid you all a very fond farewell.