The Green Mountains, composed by Forrin, King of the Dweor, as his folk caught sight of the Green Mountains on their long march to the south, fleeing from the upheaval of Usham.

Hark my Brothers!

For what is that upon the light of the horizon?

A land filled with milk and honey

A land to carve halls and brew beer

Where the furthest peak is ornate with green growing grass

Here we make our fortune once more

Safe from the chilling sorrow of Usham

Here upon the Green Mountains

Shall the Dweor be sung of again