Riders of Rohan
Cold grey light of an early morning,
horse's breath, like smoke in frosty air.
Riders prepare to mount with the dawning,
of a Janurary sun, glinting on spear.
Each horse troop, all one color,
shades from grey to darkest black.
Coats brushed to shine, like velvet
of dusty night, hoofbeat's echo back.
Fearless in battle, yet, men of gentle heart,
rider's of the Rohirrim, gallop over the plain.
Onward, to Gondor's walls, to do their part,
white horse on green flag, blows in the wind.
Theoden, King, a brave leader of his men,
master of Shadowfax's brother, white Snowmane.