When the last Eagle soars,
Over the last crumbling mountain.
And the last of the Men,
Sit by their dusty fountain.

In the shadow of the Forest,
They will never cease to be.
In this land they will tarry;
They’re Iluvatar’s first born.

When the first breath of winter,
Through the mallorn is icing.
And you look to the West,
And the blue sea is calling.
And it seems like all is dying,
And would leave the world to mourn.

On the wind hear their laughter.
They’re Iluvatar’s first born.
*Ni cuina…Ni cuina…

When the last arrow ‘s notched,
And the last sword unsheathed.
When the last maiden weeps,
For her last love whose buried.

Look into the distance;
And you may see them come.
In this land the will tarry,
They’re Iluvatar’s first born;
*Ni cuina…Ni cuina…Ni cuina…

*I’m alive