The hills aren't alive
not like they once were
the sound of music
only comes from below

There once was a man from the Valley
He tried to write songs on Finale
So he'd pick up his horn
But it's sounds were forlorn
So he only played out in the alley

V
As when a sick man very near to death
Seems dead indeed, and feels begin and end
The tears and takes the farewell of each friend,
And hears one bit the other go, draw breath
Freelier outside, ('since all is o'er,' he saith
And the blow fallen no grieving can amend;')