far over the misty mountains cold
in diungeons deep and caverns old
the pines were roaring oon the hieght
the winds were mourning in the night
the fire was red it flaming spread
the treees like torches blazed with light
the dwarves of yore
may mighty spoke
while hammers fell like ringing blows
the mountain smke
beneath the grove
the dwarves they heard the tramp of doom
they fled the ho to dying foe
beneath his feet benaeth the moon
the bells were ringing
ringing the dale
and men were caught with faces pale
the dragons eye more fierce than fire
made all their towns and houses frail
the wind came down
from mountains cold
and like a tide it rode and rode
under the mountains dark and tall
the kind has come unto his home
his foe is dead
to roam it
and eevr so foes shall fall
we must away ere break of day
to seek our long forgotten gold

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