Pinings at the Mount

by Bob Hurt, 15 September 1981

There lives a lass I dearly love.
She near the mountain dwells;
Spirit-bright, she smiles a lot
And seldom ever tells
Of how she yearns and longs inside
For him upon a steed,
Her Knight in shining armor, yea,
The Captain of her need.
Some say she'll pine her life away,
Awaiting years gone by
For one who's just a misty dream,
Clouding up her sky.
But patiently she waits him out,
The fire within her glows:
The mountain soon will send him forth,
She consumately knows.
Now if only I could be the one,
And upon a stallion ride,
I'd swoop right down upon her
And pull her to my side.
I'd comfort, love, and cherish her,
Put waiting to an end;
I'd be the pride and envy of
Ten thousand thousand men.
But I know naught of knights and such,
Nor mountain mystery.
I'm just a poor and simple man -
She'd never go for me.
Each night I sigh myself to sleep
And dream how history tells
About the lass I dearly love
Who near the mountain dwells.

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