MY LOVE IS A MOUNTAINEER
Copyright, 1889, by W. H. Ewald & Bro.
Words by Henry Gates. Music by M. Eldot.
On the base of the old Alpine mountains,
Mid flowers that bloom rich and rare,
There dwells a dear little maiden,
With cheeks like the blush roses there.
Light hearted and free, joyous is she,
As the birds that do warble above,
In voice sweet and strong she carols her song,
Which the wind carries on to her love.
My love climbs the steep, craggy mountains,
Whose peaks seem to reach the blue sky;
Below he can hear the birds warble,
Above him the bold eagles fly.
Onward be goes gaily singing,
He knows not the feeling, call'd fear;
Happy am I when my sweetheart is nigh,
For my love is a bold mountaineer.
At night when the moon beams above her,
And peeps o'er the mountain's crest,
Clasp'd in the arms of her lover,
Her heart is at ease and at rest.
The story, so old, once more is told,
With a kiss he then bids her good-bye;
Her words of good cheer oft come to his ear
As he climbs the old mountain so high.-Chorus.