Another Way Round

[The Saucepan Man]

... is of course ya hey!

It's the Goblin's song while setting fire to the trees in which Gandalf, Bilbo, Thorin and Co took had taken refuge:

Burn, burn tree and fern!
Shrivel and scorch! A fizzling torch
To light the night for our delight,
Ya hey!

Bake and toast ‘em, fry and roast ‘em!
Till beards blaze, and eyes glaze;
Till hair smells and skins crack,
Fat melts, and bones black
In cinders lie
Beneath the sky!

So dwarves shall die,
And light the night for our delight!
Ya hey!
Ya-harri-hey!
Ya hoy!

[HerenIstarion]

yes of course

[The Saucepan Man]

Ace.

Logic rotted my sprightly head
Which underground was lucky to remain;
But back I ambled, weak with feet of lead,
To cower from shadows darkening.
Avoiding tangled mountains o’er Goblin caves
He approached heavily with clumsy head,
But stayed to keep me company yet to remain
Oblivious to the uproarious peaks.

[HerenIstarion]

Enchantment healed his weary feet
That over hills were doomed to roam;
And forth he hastened, strong and fleet,
And grasped at moonbeams glistening.
Through woven woods in Elvenhome
She tightly fled on dancing feet,
And left him lonely still to roam
In the silent forest listening.

[The Saucepan Man]

Oui. D'accord. Allez, H-I.

[HerenIstarion]

next one, than:

The President over the oakery
The President of molten fat
The servant of wooden bakery
Have gone from where he sat

His shoes have been downtrodden
His pipes've been snapped in two
His shack with flood was sodden
His creed gone to the blue

The desert filled his tillages
The sand mounts o'er the moon
Privation seized his villages
His lead is kept by loon

The lakes are dried in sorrow
The rivers're bleak and wet
All glee have gone from morrow
He's gone from where he sat!

[Lord of Angmar]

[

The King beneath the mountains,
The King of carven stone,
The lord of silver fountains
Shall come into his own!

His crown shall be upholden,
His harp shall be restrung,
His halls shall echo golden
To songs of yore re-sung.

The woods shall wave on mountains
And grass beneath the sun
His wealth shall flow in fountains
And the river golden run.

The streams shall run in gladness,
The lakes shall shine and burn,
All sorrow fail and sadness
At the Mountain-king's return!