by Marta Layton Last Edited: 09 September 2004
Inglor (a soldier of Gondor) thinks about just how badly his countrymen need the Rohirrim to ride to their aid, just before the Siege of Minas Tirith. Written to the tune of the Beatles' song "Help"
Help! We need some horse-lords.
Help! Bring your spears and long-swords.
Help! For we fear that Mordor's
Marching...
We sent an arrow red to your far-off land,
Called on our fastest rider, set it in his hands.
Now the hour has come, past year's oaths obey;
Oh, Eorl's valiant sons, once more save the day.
Long ago, you rode down from the North,
Saving steward Cirion with your worth;
Now once again, we need you to ride forth.
Rohan, please, ride quickly.
"Labor with brick and mortar, build up your out-walls"
So that stormcrow-wizard said, but will it hold them all?
The dark lord's might is growing -- look, he blocks the sun!
Rohan, if you don't come soon, know that he has won.
Hope is kindled; beacons light the sky.
But hurry, for the orcs, they draw so nigh.
Ride swiftly now, or all the West may die.
Rohan, please, ride quickly.