The sword is sharp, the spear is long

The arrow swift, the gate is strong

The heart is bold that looks on gold

The dwarves no more shall suffer wrong



The mountain throne once more is freed

O! Wandering fold, the summons heed

Come haste! Come haste! Across the waste

The king of friend and kin has need.



Now call we over mountains cold

Come back unto the caverns old

Here at the gates the king awaits

His hands are rich with gems and gold



The king is come unto his hall

Under the mountain dark and tall

The worm of dread is slain and dead

And ever so our foes shall fall