From the Great Cold Mountain
Oh, the Great Cold Mountain
I am standing at its base
In its unforgiving shadow
A small town does hide its face
For in time immemorial
Something terrible and old
Descended from that evil rock
And whispered in the cold
Did make a foolish Devil’s Deal
With an evil force of night
Five Gentleman, who wished to steal
A land, a hope, a right
That force, it cackled on the wind
And spat curses in the snow;
Still whispers little, evil things
As the townsfolk come and go
It had in its tattered claws
Gripped the hearts of men and beasts
And fears naught the blade or pistol shot–
Just the sunrise in the east
The land was considered spoiled
And home to naught but snakes
But five foolhardy gentleman
Would heed not the curse in place
The Gentleman were named as follows:
Fontaine, McClane, and Hart
Along with Jones and Smith
Sought to set themselves apart
They staked their claims, heeded warnings not
Dug cellars and cleared snow
But before they laid a single brick
To a high place they did go
They climbed the Great Cold Mountain
And O’er many-a precipice
And fought with cold and danger
And with many a near miss!
Until they came upon an ancient cave
Warm, despite the snow
And bargained with a horned thing
Perched on evil shapes of stone
Winged black with Jam-red eyes
A smile of toothy charm,
“Come sit my friends, let’s make a deal–
I mean you all no harm!”
For the beast, it wanted worship
Of woman, man, and babe
And wanted a people of its own
Whose souls it surely craved
“Build to me a shrine down deep
Beneath your growing town
I want only for some company–
And joyous, praying sounds!
“Take with you this statuette–
And mind it with great care:
For with it I go, it goes with me,
Where ’tis, I am there.”
So the men descended from that place
With the evil statue down
To the lands that would one day
Be their mountain town
They built for it (that evil thing)
A grand, resplendent shrine
That those who dug and built that town
Would pledge their souls for all of time
And at start all things were going well
With crops and cattle plenty
Buildings stood quick, folks settled in
Ne’er a house was empty
The honey flowed and trade was good
The town waxed rich with gold
And as time wore on, the founders forgot
To whom they pledged their souls
Evil brooded in its temple-shrine
Empty deep within the ground
And now had neither company
Nor those sweetest praying sounds
“I think its time these gentleman
Were reminded of our deal
For now I sit alone- the fools!
I will surely make them squeal.
Now the creature it did fear the sun
So it sneaked out in dead of night
And struck a chord in Fontaine’s heart
To accept what’s wrong for right
Fontaine awoke in a cold sweat
With evil in his eyes
His mind askew, his heart turned black–
He would kill whom he despised!
He took an ax and went to town
Attacking here and there
In the carnage he was put down
By the courageous Sergeant Blair
“A senseless crime!” the papers cried
“What did get into him?
“For Frank Fontaine was once so kind
“And shewed all wrong and sin.”
The gentleman (now numbered four)
Were scared at this event
But they remembered not the oath the made
Nor to whom their souls were pledged
Sean McClane was a portly man
Fat with appetites
The evil came to him with curse
On one dark foreboding night
He was turned into a feral pig
And set loose to run away
He ate filth and grime and sticks and leaves
And in filth and grime he lay
Until he was caught and fattened up
And taken off to town
Where he was butchered, cooked and served
To the poor whose luck was down
Oh, what to say of the unfortunates
That ate the pig McClane
Except that they now think they are as pigs–
They squeal and root, deranged.
The gentleman (now numbered three)
Were scared of this event
But they remembered not the oath they made
Nor to whom their souls were pledged
Tom Smith was a petty, greedy man
All avarice and spite
In madness he ate up his wealth
Late one snowy night
The terrible tale was told so clear
His eyes and belly bulged
He was found stone dead in his vault–
He had eaten all his gold
The gentleman (now numbered two)
Were scared of this event
Though they remembered not the oath they made
Nor to whom their souls were pledged
Not much can be said of Jerry Jones
He was a quiet man
And into the woods he disappeared
…Just vanished from the land
The townsfolk searched both low and high
In the quiet, eerie wood
And they found naught but tattered clothes
As if he melted where he stood
The gentleman (now numbered one)
Was scared of this event
And finally, he remembered true
To whom his soul was pledged
Lou Hart, he was the final man
Determined he was to live
He traveled deeply underground
An apology he’d give!
He approached the enshrined statuette
With claws and Jam-red eyes
And said, “I shall not forget
“What to thee I owe of mine!”
“Hart, my man,” the creature spoke
In tones as sweet as cream
“There’s a reason, sir, why you are last–
A purpose to your being.
“For mortals are wont to forget
“Promises made on high
“When the towns they own wax mightily,”
He ended weary with a sigh.
“So I shall give you a gift,
“All my power to give–
“I shall take your shaky mortal frame
“And live within your skin!”
Hart emerged next morning
Dressed up up all in black
He smiled wide, greeted all
“I’m back my friends, I’m back!”
‘Twas something different ’bout this man
Whose eyes gleamed cold and cruel
He was cloaked in a dark strangeness
Though he walked so jovial
The town still stands, though in ruins now
With an air of fear and doubt
For it’s here madness is dispensed
From Mayor Hart, so stout
Insanity, it seems to me
Is contagious at the least
The Townsfolk live in misery–
Bad luck, a prowling beast
I have not time to tell all tales
Of this mountain town
Save none can leave, and all must stay
And madness lies within the ground
For Hart still reigns with grin and curse
He hasn’t seemed to age–
His smile seems to be all teeth
His eyes, a jam-red shade
The problem as I see it now
Is that these men, with foolish pride
Tried to barter with their brains and souls
And let madness deep inside
Oh, let this be a lesson
Please do heed these words
For naught can replace the heart and soul
Not wisdom, wealth, or words.
O, the Great Cold Mountain
I am standing on its peak
And gazing ‘pon a small mountain town
In shadow, cold, and weak.
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