Hallowed lake, Kheled-zaram, the Deathless spied, reflecting stars,
A gilded crown, above his head,
omen that his kingdom there he'd found.
Durin King, dwarven lord, first of seven, he was born,
Six more times, he'd rise again,
Khazad-Dum his realm, Longbeard's throne.
In mansions made of stone, the dwarven masters toiled.
Artisans and smiths, shaping Middle-Earth
Growing might, as ages passed, a gifted ring, alliances undone.
By, third age, seclusion, and thirst, for, Mithril lead
Durin's, folk to, delve deeper still. Stirring, the nameless horror.
Dwarves fled, their king was slain.
Expelled, by dread of Morgoth's stain.
Displaced, and led by Thrain
Their new, kingdom Erebor
As foul things, infested halls, The Black Pit, to Sauron falls.
Moria, a poisoned land, corrupted in the grasp of his black hand
Durin King, dwarven lord, first of seven, he was born,
Six more times, he'd rise again, Khazad-Dum the realm of the Deathless

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