CAPO ON THE 2nd FRET
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We started out from Bern one sunny August morn
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there was just the four of us against the Matterhorn.
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There was Albert the Australian and John the Irishman
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me and Bill from Britian, mad dogs in the sun.
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Matterhorn, Matterhorn, men have tried men have died to
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climb the Matterhorn, that mighty Matterhorn.
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Two miles up we lost John and the ration fell below.
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Al and Bill are lying beneath an avelanche of snow.
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Now here I am alone and I know I cannot stop.
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Two more yards in front of me before I reach the top.
(Chorus)
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Well here I am a dying upon the Matterhorn
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not a thing for me to lie in nor a thing to keep me warm.
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The Queen would surly kinght me if I could get back down,
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but its closer here to heaven than it is back to the ground.