Denethor: Can you sing, Master Hobbit?
Pippin: Well... yes. At least, well enough for my own people. But we have no songs for great halls and... evil times.
Denethor: And why should your songs be unfit for my hall? Come, sing me a song.
Pippin: [sings] Home is behind, the world ahead... And there are many paths to tread. Through shadow, to the edge of night, until the stars are all alight... Mist and shadow, cloud and shade, all shall fade... all... shall... fade...