The fairest way for any man to have his own
Is forty years of undisturbed work
And while the rest are buried under stone
When do you want to go off on our own?

Rolling towns of pastures green and mountainsides
Reflected light off winding streams that run for miles
I wanted to try my hand but I am old
And now it's too late, we'll never get to go

Finding the path to be taken
Was forced by a desperate ruler
Who gave mostly hardships and earfuls
But thought himself generous and fair

Lay me beside the mountain
Whose shelter incites the moon
But who dares disturb those that rest nearby
The mountain?