Matterhorn

	  		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.