‘Twas midnight, and the pounding drums
Did boom and rumble in the deep.
The Fellowship—how far they’d come!—
Did hardly dare to sleep.
“Beware the Balrog, Mithrandir!
The magic dark, the swift attack!
Beware Ungoliant, and fear
Ancalagon the Black!”
He took his elven blade in hand;
Long time through Khazad-dûm they walked.
They made their stand in a cavern grand,
With no more time to talk.
But as they stood prepared to fight,
The Balrog grim, with whip of flame,
Strode forth all cloaked in wings of night,
And thundered as it came!
One, two! One, two! And through and through
Bright Glamdring hewed the fiery sword.
They battled long, from depths to peak,
Ere Balrog broke upon the sward.
“And hast thou slain the Balrog, then?
Come, garb thyself in robes of white!
Oh frabjous day! Calloo, callay!”
Thus Gandalf grew in might.
‘Twas daylight, and the pounding drums
Did no more rumble in the deep.
The Fellowship had come and gone,
And Moria did sleep.
