High on the mountains highest ridge Where oft the stormy winter gale Cuts life a scythe, while through the clouds It sweeps from vale to vale; Not five yards from the mountain path, Silvertine you on the left espy; And to the left, three yards beyond, You see a little muddy pound.
I looked around, I thought I saw A jutting crag, and off I ran, Head-foremost, through the driving rain, The shelter of the crag to gain; And, as I am a man, Instead a jutting crag, I found Durins tower up from the ground...Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.