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To Win Our Harps
Beneath HisFeet Beneath The Moon
TheBells WereRinging
In The Dale
The dragon-fire
in twisted wire
Far over the MistyMounta
ins cold
To dungeons deep and caverns old
TheyMeshed
TheLight Of MoonAnd
Sun
We must away ere break of day
To seek the pale enchanted gold
And Men Looked
Up With Faces Pale
FarOver the misty mountains cold
TheDwarves
OfYoreMade
MightySpells
WhileHammer
sFellLike
Ringing
Bells
To Dungeons
Deep and caverns old
InPlaces
DeepWhere
DarkThings
Sleep
In hollow halls beneath TheFells
Far Over The Misty Mountains
Grim
TheDragons
IreMore
FierceThan
Fire
We Must Away Ere Break Of Day
For ancient king and elvish lord
ThereMany a gleaming Golden
Hoard
To claim our long-forgot
ten gold
They shaped and wrought
And light they caught
LaidLow
TheirTowers
AndHouses
Frail
Goblets they carved
To hide in gems on hilt of sword
On silver necklaces they strung
There for themselves
The flowering stars
On crowns they hung
