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