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Hark! Hear the bells.
Sad silver bells.
In Lordaeron,
But they are gone.

Arthas he came,
man of great fame.
To the old throne,
all made of stone.
Ding-dong-ding-dong, that is our song.
No more ringing, and so we sing.

Killed father dear.
Thus, no more cheer.
Details are vague,
but brought the plague.
Wish they would sound, bells on the ground.
Through the city, quite a pity.
Dead sleeping deep, and so we weep.
No more ringing and so we sing.

There is no joy, in the veil of winter.
There is no joy, in the veil of winter.

On, on they send.
To our dark end.
Chimes from the past,
are fading fast.
Hark! Hear the bells, sad silver bells,
all seem to say, thou we betray.
On, on they send.
To our dark end.
Chimes from the past,
are fading fast.
Ding-dong-ding-dong!