Far over the Misty Mountains cold
To dungeons deep and caverns old
We must away, ere break of day
To seek our pale enchanted gold

The dwarves of yore made mighty spells
While hammers fell like ringing bells
In places deep, where dark things sleep
In hollow 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
The flowering stars, on crowns they hung
The dragon-fire, on twisted wire
They 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 by men or elves
The pines were roaring on the heights
The wind was moaning in the night
The fire was red, it flaming spread
The trees like torches blazed with light