Bienvenue à toi, même si c'est assez en retard.
Under the Mountain dark and tall The sword is sharp, the spear is long,
The King has come unto his hall! The arrow swift, the Gate is strong
His foe is dead, the Worm of Dread, The heart is bold that looks on gold
And ever so his foes shall fall! The dwarves no more shall suffer wrong
The dwarves of yore made mighty spells, On silver necklaces they strung
While hammers fell like ringing bells The light of stars, on crowns they hung
In places deep, where dark things sleep, The dragon-fire, from twisted wire
In hollow halls beneath the fells. The melody of harps they wrung.