| The sword is sharp, the spear is long
|
| The arrow swift, the gate is strong
|
| The heart is bold that looks on gold
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| The dwarves no more shall suffer wrong
|
| The mountain throne once more is freed
|
| O! |
| Wandering fold, the summons heed
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| Come haste! |
| Come haste! |
| Across the waste
|
| The king of friend and kin has need.
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| Now call we over mountains cold
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| Come back unto the caverns old
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| Here at the gates the king awaits
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| His hands are rich with gems and gold
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| The king is come unto his hall
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| Under the mountain dark and tall
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| The worm of dread is slain and dead
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| And ever so our foes shall fall |