Young am I called, yet the Muster begins
Riders of the Mark called forth
by Theoden's arrow - and the whisper
'Rohan must ride lest Gondor falls!'
Mother, be thou proud of thy last son!
Soon shall I be ready to shave, and see!
Already I ride with the Riddermarks' best!
Proud is my Mother's face
Glistening with her tears
Struggling to breathe again
My Brother's helm she gives
Lifted from his cold head where
In honor he fell, rearguard at the Dike
With Westfoldmen he held and fell
Young am I called, yet still can I ride
Riders of the Mark called forth
By Theoden's arrow - and the whisper
'Rohan must ride lest Gondor falls!'
Mother be thou proud of thy last son!
Soon shall I be ready to shave, and see!
Already I ride with the Riddermarks' best!
Proud is my Mother's face
Glistening with her tears
Struggling to breathe again
Her Brother's lance she gives
Returned by Erkenbrand's hand
In honor he fell, tolling Helm's price
Young am I called, yet still can I ride
Riders of the Mark called forth
by Theoden's arrow - and the whisper
'Rohan must ride lest Gondor falls!'
Mother be thou proud of thy last son!
Soon shall I be ready to shave, and see!
Already I ride with the Riddermarks' best!
Proud is my Mother's face
Glistening with her tears
Struggling to breathe again
Her blessing now she gives
Quietly firmly stated so I ride
With valor by King Theoden's side