Answer
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Far over the misty mountains cold
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To dungeons deep and caverns old
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We must away ere break of day
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To seek the pale enchanted gold
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The dwarves of yore made mighty spells
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While hammers fell like ringing bells
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In places deep, where dark things sleep
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In hollow halls beneath the fells
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For ancient king and elvish lord
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There many a gleaming golden hoard
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They shaped and wrought, and light they caught
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To hide in gems on hilt of sword
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On silver necklaces they strung
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The flowering stars, on crowns they hung
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The dragon-fire, in twisted wire
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They meshed the light of moon and sun
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Far over the misty mountains cold
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To dungeons deep and caverns old
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We must away, ere break of day
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To claim our long-forgotten gold
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Goblets they carved there for themselves
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And harps of gold; where no man delves
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There lay they long, and many a song
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Was sung unheard by men or elves
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The pines were roaring on the height
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The winds were moaning in the night
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The fire was red, it flaming spread
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The trees like torches blazed with light
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The bells were ringing in the dale
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And men they looked up with faces pale
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The dragon’s ire more fierce than fire
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Laid low their towers and houses frail
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The mountain smoked beneath the moon
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The dwarves they heard the tramp of doom
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They fled their hall to dying fall
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Beneath his feet, beneath the moon
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Far over the misty mountains grim
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To dungeons deep and caverns dim
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We must away, ere break of day
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To win our harps and gold from him
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