The Song Of The Mountaineers
by
When Morning sheds her ruddy light
O’er heath and dusky dell,
Away we go to the mountain’s height,
To chase the swift gazelle;
To chase afar the savage wolf,
Or light and bounding roe,
O’er slippery steep, o’er ravine deep,
With merry hearts we go.
While Echo still,
From some far hill,
Repeats our glad hallo!
Hallo!
Where heart-inspiring danger dwells,
With fearless feet we roam,
And nimbly bound o’er craggy dells,
Where babbling waters foam.
O’er trackless wilds, at break of morn,
With right good will we go,
And merrily wind our bugle horn,
And chase the fleeting roe.
While Echo still,
From some far hill,
Repeats our glad Hallo!
Hallo!