He talks with the birds when he's lonely;
He sleeps with the stars for a tent
The bees spread a feast when he's hungry
And God charges no rent
He sleeps with the stars for a tent
The bees spread a feast when he's hungry
And God charges no rent
He'll live as long as an old oak tree
And laugh at fools like you and me
Oh, I often sigh and wish that I
Were the Old Man of the Mountain
And laugh at fools like you and me
Oh, I often sigh and wish that I
Were the Old Man of the Mountain
— "The Old Man of the Mountain," old jazz song