Of old they were men
With the hearts of the brave
And strong were the bones
Once meant for a grave
But no peaceful rest
Their bodies did find
And they now walk forgotten
Through pain and through time
These are the Nazgûl
They serve only one
A ring that is master
It is dark to the sun
Its wearer is Power
Its fuel is Desire
It corrupts and it holds
And it burns with a fire
Sauron, their keeper
The Dark Lord of Mordor
Is evil embodied
His thought is an order
They live to but aid him
His wish is their will
They loathe him and love him
To protect they will kill
His whim is their living
His anger their bane
They wait on his wrath
They exist to cause pain
They hunt for the small one
Who carries their prize
Who they kill matters not
So unworthy are lives
What became of the kings
That so long ago rode
Into sunsets of silver
And daybreaks of gold?
They walk now alone
Through time and its sands
And have long passed away
From these dismal lands
Will they not find their rest?
Who can say where they dwell
We mourn for the wraiths
In this sad tale we tell