In the silence of the mountains,
Snow caps high when up above,
As we climb we’re getting higher,
Doing what we all do love.
Then as we get to certain heights,
You know there’ll be a lot of frights,
Ropes could fray feet get cold,
A sign that you are getting old.
Yet climbing is exciting,
Whatever be your age,
The world can be your oyster,
Within this life of rage.
Suddenly we’re on a ridge,
And thought our eyes were funny,
We saw a woman nearly nude,
Her hair was long and funny.
We realised it was a ghost,
Of the woman,
Of the mountains,
Guarding and protecting.