Now we know the Storm is Nigh,
On Shadowfax the Horse you Fly.
Bearing a Halfling from a Land far away,
Shall you Go or Shall you Stay?

To Gondor you bring Tidings of War,
You have Ridden to us from Afar.
Our Lord is in Mourning, his Sons are Gone,
Will there even be a Dawn?

White Wizard, you are a great Ally,
Before your Face, the Hosts of Mordor fly.
You give the City a Glimmer of Hope,
Without your Aid, we shall not Cope.