The winds were moaning in the night,
The fire was red, it flaming spread;
The trees llike 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 towns and houses frail.
The mountain smoked 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 mountians grim
To dungeons deep and caverns dim
We must away ere break of day
To win our harps and gold from him!