Far over the Misty Mountains cold
To dungeons deep and caverns old
The dwarves of your made mighty spells
While hammers fell, like ringing bells 
Goblets they carved for themselves
And harps of gold where no man delves
They shape the wrought, and light they caught
To hide in gems on hilt of sword.

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 bells were ringing in the dale
And men looked up with faces pale
The dragon's ire, more fierce than fire
Laid low there towers and house frail

The mountain smoked beneath the moon
The dwarves, the heard the tramp of doom
They fled their hall to dying fall
Beneath his feet, beneath the moon.
Far over the Misty Mountains grim
To dungeons deep and caverns dim
We must away ere break of day
To win our harps and gold from him!

We must away! We must away!
We must before the break of day.