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
