To dungeons deep and caverns 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 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 gem on hilt of sword.
On silver necklaces they strung
The flowering stars, on crowns they hung
The dragonfire; in twisted wire
They meshed the light of moon and sun.
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.
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.