Orcish lullaby based on the Lay of Leithian

I’ll sing ye famous song, how in the days of yore,

When flat was our world, when Rings have not yet been made,

Our first Dark Lord defeated was by Elfin maid,

Where others failed; Tinúviel was name of her.

Idea of making a lullaby from Lay of Leithian came to me after reading a Russian translation of “Beren and Luthien” book, where line “Down crumpled Orc, down Balrog proud” resembled the song “Sleep tired toys, books are asleep…” from a children show. But making a lullaby for Orcs required changes to be made, for example baby-orc should be afraid of Lúthien. I've also made a quick research to be sure that scary lullabies are the thing in almost every culture.

It also reflects Tolkien's belief that Evil cannot create art or life:

The Shadow that bred them can only mock, it cannot make: not real new things of its own.
(Frodo to Sam about Orcs, LOTR, ROTK, Book Six, Chapter I: The Tower of Cirith Ungol)

Melkor spent his spirit in envy and hate, until at last he could make nothing save in mockery of the thought of others…
(Silmarillion, Valaquenta, Of the Valar)

So, most of the text was taken directly from Lay of Leithian, but with lines and words inside of them re-arranged. Out of 500 words over 310 were “stolen”. Words taken directly from corresponding line were marked with bold, and line is marked with it's number from original poem. A couple of lines have line numbers specified, but not marked with bold – this means it's inspired by original, but wording changed too much. All grammar mistakes, bad rhymes and rhythm changes should be considered as Orcish view on language, art and beauty.

Why won’t you sleep? Loud is Angband.
All day and night there hammers pound. 3861
The rumour thunders in the forges 3852
built deep in Thangorodrim’s gorges.
A burning wind there roaring blows 3853
foul vapours up from gaping holes, 3854
where wretched captives cry in pain 3865
amid the iron clink of chain. 3864

Soon, soon it will be slowly changed: 3962
the elven witch in raiment strange, 3963
batlike, will secretly here fly, 3963
bloodthirsty snobbish wood-sprites’ spy,
to Morgoth’s hall, where splendid feast 3876
he holds, and drinks the blood of beast 3877
and lives of Men, she’ll boldly raid. 3878
Her eyes will blaze with flame and hate. 3879

She’ll let her flying raiment sweep, 4068
enmeshed with woven spells of sleep, 4069
as round the dark void she will reel, 4070
and hidden garment she’ll reveal 3968, 3965
with starlight caught in elvish veil 3969
which glimmers in Angband’s halls pale. 3968
Dim dreams and faint oblivious sleep 3970
will softly fall on dungeons deep, 3971

And smell of Doriath’s flowers 3972
will cloud fiery glowing towers.
Then softly she’ll begin to sing 3978
a theme of sleep and slumbering. 3979
The fires of Angband will flare and die, 3984
smouldered into darkness; through the high 3985
and hollow halls there 'll roll unfurled 3986
the shadows of the underworld. 3987

Wandering, woven with deeper spell, 3980
her voice all maws and hearts will quell. 4082
Down crumpled orcs, down hungry beasts 4080 / 4170
turned in their dreams of lavish feasts; 4171
the fires of heart and maw are still, 4082
soothed by enchanting bird-like thrill; 4083
in sleep uneasy Balrogs stir; 4172
all lulled by sorcery of her.

And as her song begins anew 4062
and soft comes dropping like a dew, 4063
that falls from ceiling of that dome
and grows to seething silver foam
of loudly rumbling rapid streams, 4066
pale falling in dark pools of dreams, 4067
a heart-enthralling dance she winds 4059, 4060
to calm the servants restless minds.

All movement stops, and sound ceases, 3988
save Orcs’ and beasts’ slumberous wheezes. 3989
All eyes were quenched, save those that glared 4086
in gloomy Morgoth’s face and stared 4087
at elvish beauty, frail and false,
bewitching in the great vast halls
in slowly wandering wonder round, 4088
all were in enchantment bound. 4089

Like stars the Silmarils glittered, 4092
from Dark Lord’s crown they down flittered, 4135
and flaring suddenly they fell, 4096
upon the floors of Iron Hell. 4097
The dark and mighty head was bowed;             4098

like mountain-top beneath a cloud               4099

the shoulders foundered, the vast form 4100

crashed, as in overwhelming storm               4101

huge cliffs in ruin slide and fall;             4102

and prone lays Morgoth in his hall.             4103

All eyes are quenched, all heads are bowed; 4081
sleeps crumpled Orc, sleeps Balrog proud; 4080
the wolves like corpses foul are strewn, 4110
no more they howling on the Moon; 4175
sleep adders, lay like twisted stone; 4109
lays Morgoth in his hall, dream-prone. 4103
His crown there rolls upon the ground, 4104
with Silmarils kindling; all sound 4092, 4105
died, and a silence grew as dee         4106
as were the heart of Earth asleep.         4107

All movement stayed, and all sound ceased, 3988
save snoring breath of Orc and beast. 3989
All eyes are quenched, all heads are bowed; 4081

sleep, child, your bed be soft as cloud.

The translation of this text into Nûrlâm will be published in wiki article later.