The sword is sharp, the spear is long The arrow swift, the gate is strong The heart is bold that looks on gold The dwarves no more shall suffer wrong The mountain throne once more is freed O! Wandering fold, the summons heed Come haste! Come haste! Across the waste The king of friend and kin has need. Now call we over mountains cold Come back unto the caverns old Here at the gates the king awaits His hands are rich with gems and gold The king is come unto his hall Under the mountain dark and tall The worm of dread is slain and dead And ever so our foes shall fall