Jingle Bells

Carried over snow,

In a dwarf-driven sleigh.

A wasteland of icy flows,

Silent all the way.

The sled's bells all do ring,

But no spirits are bright.

For this is a winter old as time,

And long and cold's its night.

From west to east she journeys on,

Surveying this cold land.

To the north is Ettinsmoor,

To south is Archenland.

This country's her domain,

Never shall come the spring.

So ever she is carried on,

Ever the bells do ring.