ome is the mountains high in clear blue sky with eagles soaring free.
It's the jagged crags and fog draped snags with rocky slides of scree.
It's the great Dall Sheep in this mountain steep with peaks all covered with snow,
Where ridge-lines run the setting sun with darkness in the valleys below.

From my cabin door along the Yukon shore I watch the salmon leap.
I'll fish today, some I will play, maybe one I will keep.
Tomorrow I know along the trail I go, a Moose may fall to my hand,
Or maybe a Bear, a Goose or a Hare; there's a bounty walks this land.

Face the highest peak and its name you speak is music like a beautiful song.
"Denali" - Denali is calling me back - back to the place I belong.
What was the lure that called me away? Why leave a home so fair?
It was smiling eyes and little lies and the lure of the golden snare.

Many years I was humble in that concrete jungle laboring for a heart grown cold.
In the heat I would toil on that asphalt soil when the steel was too hot to hold.
With the hot wind blowing I wished it was snowing, how I longed for my mountain home.
When here love grew dim and gold grew thin, I was liquor soaked to the bone.

It was tragedy there for she didn't care and the liquor could no longer sustain.
I boarded a Jet that was pointing North and flew back to Alaska again.
Now I stand once more in my cabin door, Salmon leaping in the morning chill,
Denali shining high in the morning sky; It's my home - and the answer still.



   

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