King Of The Mountain

Written By David E. Young , 2003
The mountain peaks all beckon me.
Their white beauty is home.
I climb the slopes so gracefully
Where goats may never roam.

The scrubs and bushes taste so sweet.
My long, coarse hair is comfy.
There's nothing like a good, hard rock
To butt my horns with glee!

The air is fresh among the ice;
Here, I know no fear!
I stand alone on mountain crags
And watch the valleys near.

The hills roll out before my feet
Into bright green valleys.
The view I get, no deer or horse
Will ever fathom, really.

I hear a call; my herd has come
And found my little crag.
Oh how good to be the King
Of the Mountain; the head yak!
King Of The Mountain © 2003 by David E. Young.  All rights reserved. May not be copied or sold without express written permission from David E. Young.  May be shared on Social Media via the provided links or with included link to this page.