His Song Shall Be Sung

The King beneath the mountains,
 The King of carven stone,
 The lord of silver fountains
 Shall come into his own!
 The woods shall wave on mountains
 And grass beneath the sun:
 His wealth shall flow in fountains
 And the rivers golden run.
 His crown shall be upholden,
 His harp shall be restrung,
 His halls shall echo golden
 To songs of yore re-sung.
 The streams shall run in gladness,
 The lakes shall shine and burn,
 All sorrow fail and sadness
 At the Mountain-king's return!
 The King beneath the mountains,
 The King of carven stone,
 The lord of silver fountains
 Shall come into his own!
 His crown shall be upholden,
 His harp shall be restrung,
 His halls shall echo golden
 To songs of yore re-sung.
 His crown shall be upholden,
 His harp shall be restrung,
 His halls shall echo golden
 To songs of yore re-sung
 The woods shall wave on mountains
 And grass beneath the sun:
 His wealth shall flow in fountains
 And the rivers golden run.