A house atop a mountain,
Rain beating down cold,
The house could not maintain,
Its failing desperate hold.
Long ago, beautiful it stood,
The pleasant mountain air,
The water and grass did it good,
And all it had was care.
Smug and tall, above all,
The little house, undaunted,
But soon, all too soon came fall,
Then the cold, cold winter started.
Those who dwelled, were no more,
Icy fingers of death held them.
All that was from time and before,
Melted away, into a piece, a hem.
The house endured, but not for long,
Cold and time tore down its walls.
Lonely atop the mountain, a sad song,
To any and all, the house calls.
