Oh, gather the Orcs and pour a few
For the Master of the land;
For in Arda there is no finer brew
Than we drink here in Old Angband!

Let us drink to the fall of Ilúvatar
And the Valar that praise him so;
And to kinslaying, greed, incest and war
And all else that will bring Elves woe.

Let us drink to the fall of Fëanor
And the rest of his stupid folks;
Though he made me some jewels that I adore
On his lembas I hope he chokes.

Let us welcome the men and bid them drink
For their hearts are as black as mine;
They may look like the Elves but I do think
I could bend them to my design.

Let us all raise our glasses in a toast
For our future indeed looks bright;
No this isn't a brag, it's not a boast
All of Arda will cringe in fright.

So lets drink to the falling of the West
When together we all shall stand;
And shall sing of the brew that is the best
In the Halls of Old Angband!