Fog On The Barrow-Downs

Four small heroes, feeling brave and free,
set out for the town of Bree.
At noon, they slept on the Barrow-Downs
near a stone reaching from the ground.

When they awoke the sun hadn't long,
and the Downs were covered with fog.
They had to get out 'ere the end of day,
but couldn't seem to find their way.

Cold be hand and heart and bone,
and cold be sleep under stone.
No more to wake on stony bed,
never, til Sun and Moon are dead.

Don't stop to rest and don't make a sound,
when there's fog on the Barrow Downs!
Keep to the west if you chance on a mound,
evil lurks on the Barrow Downs!

This land is threatened by a fearful enemy,
strong these heroes must remain!
Get out, you old wight! Vanish in the sunlight!
Never come back here again!

The ring-bearer called his companions on,
but he turned and and they were gone.
He was taken and woke in a pale green light,
in the lair of a Barrow-wight.

His friends, now succumbed to a spell of old,
lay helpless and adorned with gold.
A long arm danced to a song of death,
and a sword lay across their necks.

In black wind the stars will die,
and still be gold here let them lie.
Til the Dark Lord lifts his hand,
over dead sea and withered land.