Contributed by Robert Jaro (a.k.a. The Old Mountain Man)
The call of many mountains,
Was one that he must heed;
Ne’er a day went by
That they spoke not.
Come be with us and
Walk our slopes -
Gaze upon our beauty;
We will always be here
awaiting you.
When the winter snows clothe
Us with their blanket,
We still call you.
When the days are short
And the air is chilled
We still beckon and greet you.
When summer is nigh and
Our blanket departs,
We await our mantle of blossoms
That grace our slopes.
Our beauty is eternal and our
Call is always there
