No one knows the mountain man

Except for where he lives

They know the mountain man lives in the mountains

In a cave, or maybe a ditch

The mountain man climbs

Up to the highest point

His scruffy hair blows

He spreads his uncovered toes

And trumpets to the sky

A big brass trumpet

And the notes float away

Into the summer night

And then the mountain man

climbs down

and skips and rolls

“A jolly existence it must be”

Or so I was told

The mountain man scrambles

back to his cave, or his ditch

and lies down in the dirt

Ready for the morning to come again

So he can once again

Ascend the mountain