All that is gold does not glitter
Not all those who wander are lost
The old that is strong does not wither
Deep roots are not reached by the frost
From the ashes, a fire shall be woken
A light from the shadows shall spring
Renewed shall be blade that was broken
The crownless again shall be king

Seek for the Sword that was broken
In Imladris it dwells
There shall be counsels taken
Stronger than Morgul-spells
There shall be shown a token
That Doom is near at hand
For Isildur's Bane shall waken
And the Halfling forth shall stand