Post by Iluvatar on Jul 3, 2004 23:50:17 GMT -5
Far over the misty mountains cold
To dungeons deep and coverns old
We must away ere break of day
To seek the pale enchanted gold.
The Dwarves of yore made mighty spells,
While hammers fell like ringing bells
In places deep, where dark things sleep,
In hallow halls beneath the fells.
For ancient king and elvish lord
There many a gleaming golden hoard
They shaped and wrought, and light they caught
To hide in gems on hilt of sword.
On silver necklaces they strung
There many a gleaming golden hoard
The flowering stars, on crowns they hung
The dragon-fire, in twisted wire
The meshed the light of moon and sun.
Far over the misty mountains cold
To dungeons deep and caverns old
We must away, ere break of day,
To claim our long-forgotten gold.
Goblets they carved there for themselves
And harps of gold: where no man delves
There lay they long, and many a song
Was sung unheard my men or elves.
The pines were roaring on the height,
The winds were moaning in the night.
The fire was read, it flaming spread:
The trees like torches blazed with light.
The bells were ringing in the Dale
And men looked up with faces pale:
The dragon's ire more fierce than fire
Laid low their towers and houses frail.
The mountain smokes beneath the moon;
The Dwarves, they heard the tramp of doom.
They fled their hall to dying fall
Beneath his feet, beneath the moon.
Far over the misty mountains grim
To dungeons deep and caverns dim
We must away, ere break of day,
To win our harp and gold from him!
Well with Bilbos help they did kill that darn Dragon and regain there Gold!
To dungeons deep and coverns old
We must away ere break of day
To seek the pale enchanted gold.
The Dwarves of yore made mighty spells,
While hammers fell like ringing bells
In places deep, where dark things sleep,
In hallow halls beneath the fells.
For ancient king and elvish lord
There many a gleaming golden hoard
They shaped and wrought, and light they caught
To hide in gems on hilt of sword.
On silver necklaces they strung
There many a gleaming golden hoard
The flowering stars, on crowns they hung
The dragon-fire, in twisted wire
The meshed the light of moon and sun.
Far over the misty mountains cold
To dungeons deep and caverns old
We must away, ere break of day,
To claim our long-forgotten gold.
Goblets they carved there for themselves
And harps of gold: where no man delves
There lay they long, and many a song
Was sung unheard my men or elves.
The pines were roaring on the height,
The winds were moaning in the night.
The fire was read, it flaming spread:
The trees like torches blazed with light.
The bells were ringing in the Dale
And men looked up with faces pale:
The dragon's ire more fierce than fire
Laid low their towers and houses frail.
The mountain smokes beneath the moon;
The Dwarves, they heard the tramp of doom.
They fled their hall to dying fall
Beneath his feet, beneath the moon.
Far over the misty mountains grim
To dungeons deep and caverns dim
We must away, ere break of day,
To win our harp and gold from him!
Well with Bilbos help they did kill that darn Dragon and regain there Gold!
