Hexatonic, mode 2 A (I II 3 IV V — 7)
High o’er the hills the mountains rise,
Their summits tow’r toward the skies;
But far above them I must dwell,
Or sink beneath the flames of hell.
Although I walk the mountains high,
Ere long my body low must lie,
And in some lonesome place must rot,
And by the living be forgot.