The Man on the Mountain Songtext

von Mike Scott

Ask the man on the mountain
Which way to run
Whichever you choose
Will be the right one

'Twas a prince of an evening
And the moon hung low
I was feeling like Mordred
When he struck the last blow
My sword hung poised
At the High King's throat
He begged for no mercy
But sang as he spoke :

Ask the man on the mountain
Which way to run
Whichever you choose
Will be the right one

Twelve crooked jurors
Snuck in for the kill
Six smelt of poison
And six of pigswill
The Chief said "we've got him boys
Cradle to crust !"
Last time I looked
They were sucking my dust

Ask the man on the mountain
Which way to run
Whichever you choose
Will be the right one

Spare a thought for the wrecker when the big day comes
Or pour salt on his heels as he runs, as he runs
The play is only staged for a glimpse of the Guest
Behind the fancy dress

Each one's a healer
Each one's a saint
Each one's a saviour
There ain't no-one who ain't
Each one's a Buddha
Each one's a Fool
Each one's a scholar
At the very same school

Ask the man on the mountain
Which way to run
Whichever you choose
Will be the right one