Far over the Misty Mountains cold
To dungeons deep and caverns old
We must away, ere break of day
To find our long forgotten gold

The pines were roaring on the height
The winds were moaning in the night
The fire was red, it flaming spread
The trees like torches blazed with light

The world was young, the mountains green
No stain yet on the Moon was seen
No words were laid on streams or stone
When Durin woke he was alone

A king he was on carven throne
In many-pillared halls of stone
With golden rooves and silver floor
And runes of power upon the door

Far over the Misty Mountains cold
To dungeons deep and caverns old
We must away, ere break of day
To find our long forgotten gold

The world is grey, the mountains old
The forge's fire is ashen-cold