Old ballade

1. Under the mountain dark and tall
The king has come into his hall.
His foe is dead
The Warm of Dread.

1. Under the mountain dark and tall
The king has come into his hall.
His foe is dead
The Warm of Dread.

R. And ever so
His foes shall fall.

2. The sword is sharp, the spear is long,
The arrow is swift, the gate is strong.
The heart is bold
That looks on gold.

R. The dwarves no
More shall suffer wrong.