Lands may be found in this world
Of beauty true and rare
And there are places far away
Where lie treasures great and fair

But I have wandered far and wide
Seen these with my own eyes
And none have near the beauty
Of my city at sunrise

The tower of Ecthelion
Will pierce the morning sky
And from the tower of the guard
The silver trumpets cry

The White City, my city
This place I call my home
Here in my beloved Gondor
I will never feel alone

For this only would I ask
The banners flying high
The white tree of the king in bloom
And seven stars to see by

And ye may keep your precious jewels
I have riches in another form
Hold your treasures, and give me
Minas Tirith in early morn
 
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