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:
There shadows lay be night or day
And dark things silent crept beneath
(Aaaahh aaahh...)
The wind went on from West to East;
All movement in the forest ceased
But shrill and harsh across the marsh
Its whistling voices were released
Farewell we call to hearth and hall!
Though wind may blow and rain may fall
We must away ere break of day
Far o'er the wood and mountain tall