Goat Song
High up in the mountain range
a wild yale does roam.
In sadness he lowers his head
for he has not a home.
As he trots along across
the cold and bare terrain,
he swore that he could almost hear
someone calling his name.
Goat Song, whispered the wind
as it billowed through his fur,
Don't worry; you have a home.
This I know for sure.
Goat Song shook his head and bleated.
The wind must have been wrong.
To pass time the yale tipped back his head
and started to sing a song.
"Sad is the yale who is without
a place to call his own.
He always feels forlorn and glum
for he is all alone."
The yale sat on the snowy top
and watched the world below.
He felt the flakes as they drifted down.
He truly loved the snow.
"Alone is cold- but is cold bad?
I guess I'll never know.
Since I am all by myself
no one can tell me so."
Goat Song got up and found a pretty bush
with berries round and plump.
As he started to eat them all,
he gave a happy jump.
"Though alone I do remember
where all the berries grow.
Happy aren't the yales who fight
for limited berries below."
Hearing a growl, quietly
he stood still against the white backdrop.
A panther came but could not see him
and left instead of stop.
"How lucky is the yale," he sang,
once the panther had gone,
"Who blends right in and to keep his life
doesn't have to use brawn."
The wind howled and Goat Song heard
the wind as it chuckled merrily.
"Dearest Wind, why do you laugh?"
Goat Song asked quite wearily.
You see, the wind sung brightly,
I was right from the beginning; all along.
You have a home, you proved it, too
when you sang your song.
Goat Song opened his mouth once more
to tell wind it was wrong.
But he closed it because the wind was right-
here in the mountains did he belong.
