He Sang Of Rocky Mountains High,
Of Craggy Peaks Where Eagles Fly.
Inspired By Things He Vowed To Save,
A Pristine Lake, An Ocean's Wave.
His Final Trek In Solitude,
A Fate No Mortal Can Elude.
Down Country Roads No More To Roam,
God's Gentle Hand Will Take Him Home.
With Mournful Hearts And Misty Eyes,
The Sunshine Truly Made Us Cry.
His Mortal Voice Will Sing No More,
This Rocky Mountain Troubadour.
If The Rockies Wailed In Human
Voice,
His Would Be Their Solemn Choice.
If You Listen Closely To The Wind,
A Familiar Voice The Mountains Send.
Like The Eagles High, His Spirit
Soars,
This Rocky Mountain Troubadour...
İRon Dailey Oct. 19, 1997
