The horn of Helm is calling, thunder on the plain
Six thousand spears are riding through the golden grain
No dawn will find us sleeping, no shadow make us bow
We are the shield of Rohan, we ride to war now
Gondor’s towers are burning, the beacons light the sky
From the Riddermark we gallop, our answer is the cry
Death! Death! Death comes for all
But we ride before the morning, we ride at the king’s call
Forgive us, sons and daughters, the fields we leave behind
Theoden’s words are spoken: “Ride now, ride, ride to ruin”