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Well listen now my merry lads |
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A tale we'll be a-tale'n |
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About a dwarven-lord of old |
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We thinks his name was Balin |
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He sat upon a mound o' gold |
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And there he grew so very old |
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His beard so thick it kept 'im warm |
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And well when he was ailin' |
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So rich he was but still 'e lacked |
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One tiny single gem |
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A pearl 'e wanted for his hoard |
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'Twould be the death of him!! |
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He dreamed of pearls both night and day |
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He vowed that he would have his way |
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A mountain he would climb for it |
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An ocean he would swim! |
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Not far from Balin's home there lived |
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A tired and ancient dragon |
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His wings were broke, his fire was spent |
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His eyes, they were a-saggin'! |
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But he was known throughout the land |
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For in his clawed and scaly hand |
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He clutched a pearl of great renown |
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And Balin this was naggin'! |
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The dragon woke one day to find |
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Old Balin come a-callin'. |
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So old they were, they tried to fight |
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But couldn't keep from falling! |
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The dragon fell upon his sword |
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While Balin tried to reach the hoard |
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He tripped upon his beard so great |
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And crushed beneath the dragon's weight |
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He ne'er would have his precious pearl |
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For death you can't be stallin'!! |
