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.
