Song of the Ringwraiths
Always have men desired treasures of gold,
Traveling far, to Misty Mountains of stone.
Greed for power, leads them to great evil,
As ages pass away and bones grow old.
Now and forever, they must live in darkness,
No longer kings of men, but formless wraiths.
Moving shadows in the night, fearsome wraiths,
Ever seeking Dark Lord's ruling band of gold.
They ride black horses through the gloomy darkness,
Galloping to the Shire, hooves strike sparks on stone.
Following overgrown, twisted paths, through forest old,
Frightening all the farmers with fell voices of evil.
Driven to madness by Sauron's commands to do evil,
Riding, fast as the wind, dark, shadowy wraiths.
Their silver crowns of steel from kings of old,
Whose treasuries once overflowed with gold,
And silver, mined from ancient halls of stone.
They gallop, madly, through mist of cold darkness.
Passing small Shire villages, a cloud of darkness,
Ghost riders of the night, ever seeking evil.
No longer remembering kindness, hearts turned to stone,
Robes of black, hang, on bone like bodies of wraiths,
Disappearing into the twilight like sky fades from gold.
Haunting roads and alleyways as the dark night grows old.
Asking about "Baggins"? of the Shire gardner, old.
Sound of hooves, slowly fading into the darkness,
Riders sharp swords, trimmed in silver and gold.
Through all the long years, wrought with much evil,
They wander, without friends, pale and lonely wraiths,
Climbing up and down, perilous, steep roads of stone.
Cold and icy winds blow across the hard stone,
Whispering, about days when their cities were old.
Before greed and malice turned them into wraiths,
Bringing fear to all, under shadows of darkness.
Their very beings, inherent with great evil,
Forsaking all honor, in their desire for gold.
Nine terrible wraiths, faces, carved skulls of stone,
Search for a ring of gold, cut, from Sauron's hand of old.
Riding in the autumn darkness, bringing a nameless evil.