He doesn’t want the glory of a hero;
His six-foot-stride makes travelin’ a zero;
And if Sauron’s after him,
He’ll find his prospects grim—
Odds are he’ll have disappeared tomorrow.

Chorus:

Secret RangerMan, secret—
Ranger Man.
They’re givin’ you the kingdom,
And they’re takin’ away your dame.

The landlord says he’s known around as Strider,
Though Samwise still suspects that he’s a Rider;
Yet he knows about the Ring;
(And almost everything)
Odds are he will be their guide tomorrow.

Beneath the dark-and-shady masquerade,
His sheath contains Elendil’s shattered blade;
Wears the Ring of Barahir,
Controls a palantír—
Odds are he will claim the throne tomorrow.

Secret RangerMan, secret—
Ranger Man.
They’re givin’ you the kingdom,
And they’re takin’ away your dame.

Poor Denethor can’t take the coming danger,
But he ain’t reckoned on this northern stranger!
The last of Gondor’s line,
Chief of the Dúnedain;
Odds are he’s their only hope tomorrow.

Secret RangerMan, secret—
Ranger Man.
They’re givin’ you the kingdom,
And they’re takin’ away your dame.