Thorin, king under the mountain.

King of hill and dale and fountain.

Your shield and sword lie silent.

But while you were alive they would not relent.

Thorin, your grave welcomes you.

Your mourners are very, very few.

Thorin, king under the mountain.

King of hill and dale and fountain.

Thorin, king under the mountain.

King of hill and dale and fountain.

Death, he stares you in the eye.

He does not heed your weak cry.

"At last," he says, "long I've waited in vain,

for you, Thorin son of Thrain."

Thorin, king under the mountain.

King of hill and dale and fountain.

Your golden harp's music sounds not.

Nothing is as you thought.

Thorin, son of the son of Thror.

The king under the mountain is no more.