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.
Farewell we call to hearth and hall!
Though wind may blow and rain may fall,
We must away ere break of day
Far over the wood and mountain tall.