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 wind was on the withered heath
But in the forest stirred no leaf
Their shadows lay be night or day
And dark things silent crept beneath
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
With foes ahead, behind us dread
Beneath the sky shall be our bed
Until at last our toil be passed
Our journey done, our errand sped
We must away, we must away
We ride before the break of day