We started out from bern one sunny august morn There was just the four of us against the matterhorn There was albert the australian and john the irishman Me and bill from britain, mad dogs in the sun
Matterhorn, matterhorn Men have tried and men have died to climb the matterhorn That mighty matterhorn
Two miles up we lost john and our rations fell below Now al and bill are lying beneath an avalanche of snow Now here I am alone and I know I cannot stop Two more yards in front of me before I reach the top
Now here I am a dying upon the matterhorn Not a thing for me to lie in or a thing to keep me warm The queen would surely knight me if I could get back down But it's closer here to heaven than it is back to the ground
