Lyrics

With his long white beard, and his crooked staff He tramps along with the folks all laugh With a twinkle in his eye, he passes them by The old man of the mountain Well he wears long hair but his feet are bare They say he's mad as an old march hare But his cares are none, and he owes no one The old man of the mountain He talks with the birds when he's lonely He sleeps with the stars for a tent And the bees spread a feast when he's hungry And God charges no rent And he'll live as long as an old oak tree And laugh at fools like you and me Oh I often sigh, and wish that I were The old man of the mountain