Half a league, half a league,
Half a league onward,
All in the valley of Death
Walked the last Balrog.
"Forward,
my
brave
Balrog!
Charge for the Mage!" he said:
Into the valley of Death
Ran the last Balrog.

"Forward, my brave Balrog!"
Did he then show dismay?
Not though the Balrog knew
Someone had blundered:
His not to make reply,
His not to reason why,
His but to do and die:
Into the valley of Death
Ran the last Balrog.

Wizard to the right of him,
Wizard to the left of him,
Wizard in front of him

Hollered and thundered;
Stormed at with flaming staff,
Boldly he strode with laugh,
Into the jaws of Death,
Already chewed in half
Walked the last Balrog.

Pleased with his slippers pink,  
Flushed, quite the worse for drink,
Belching out quite a stink,
Charging an army, while
All the world wondered:
Plunged in the wizard-smoke
Right through to Gandalf broke;
Ranger and Rohirrim
Reeled at the whip-end's stroke.
Scorched black, a golliwog,
Then he limped back, and was
Weary, the last Balrog.

Wizard to the right of him,
Wizard to the left of him
Wizard behind him
Hollered and thundered;
Stormed at, by magic cursed,
Feeling this was the worst,
Then all his limbs dispersed,
Chewed by the jaws of Death
Broke by the mouth of Hell
Lay there in pieces small,
Fragmented Balrog.  


When can his glory fade?
O the wild charge he made!
All the world wondered.
Honour the fear that passed!
He, of all Balrogs last,
Valiant but stupid!