When the fleeting squalls are over and the clouds ride high and fair,
They will hear the lodgepole crackle and inhale the pine-sap air.
Then bacon scent and wood smoke will attract an eager bear,
He will grunt and sniff and gurgle as he wends nocturnal rounds.
As darkness dims youth’s vision, so sleep crowds out all sounds,
But the eerie detonation of the bull elk’s morning call
Will waken them from slumber by a singing water fall.
Hence, they go, go, go, away from here!
On the summit of the world they’re overdue.
Carry on! The trail is clear before you