His arrows straight, his aim is true,
His Elvish spell you can’t undo,
Prince of Mirkwood hear my plea,
From this dungeon rescue me.
My dungeon is my mortal curse,
As, with age, I will grow worse,
While he remains forever young,
He is as ageless as the sun.
His Elvish senses and fair face,
He moves with almost fluid grace,
His bright blue eyes and long blonde hair,
His Elvish skin, so pale and fair.
Please save me Prince, do not delay,
Oh Prince of Perfect, far away.