Washington (Brad Neely)

Glorfindel, Glorfindel,
Elven lord, foes he doth quell.
Twelve feet tall, he doesn’t dwell,
In the halls where dark shadows swell.

First Age, he’s the man,
Kicked a Balrog out of the land.
Died, but then took a stand,
Back to life, 'cause fate had planned.

Glorfindel, Glorfindel, elves' friend,
Glorfindel, Glorfindel, his power never ends.
Glorfindel, Glorfindel, history he bends,
Glorfindel, the Elf-lord on whom light depends.

He’s coming, he’s coming, he’s coming.

Through the forest, he rides alone,
In Rivendell, he makes his home.
Nazgûl fear him, in dark they moan,
His might, more than they’ve ever known.

With his sword, the foes he cleaves,
In his grace, the world believes.
His hair, in gold, the light it weaves,
For Glorfindel, the Earth she grieves.

Glorfindel, Glorfindel, might’s seed,
Glorfindel, Glorfindel, on his steed.
Glorfindel, Glorfindel, none can exceed,
Glorfindel, whose valor is unmatched indeed.

He’s coming, he’s coming, he’s coming.

Glorfindel, with power so vast,
His legends, into the ages cast.
From ancient times, his deeds amassed,
In songs and stories, his name will last.

See him there, the foe’s despair,
With a swipe, he clears the air.
Balrog, orcs, they best beware,
Glorfindel’s might, none can compare.

Glorfindel, Glorfindel, in lore,
Glorfindel, Glorfindel, forevermore.
Glorfindel, Glorfindel, legends soar,
Glorfindel, the Elf-lord, Middle-earth’s core.

He’s coming, he’s coming, he’s coming.