Cab Calloway — The Old Man of the Mountain

With his long white beard and a crooked staff He tramps along while the folks all laugh; With a twinkle in his eye, he passes them by; The Old Man of the Mountain He wears long hair and his feet are bare; They say he's mad as an old march hare But his cares are none, he owes no one The Old Man of the Mountain He talks with the birds when he's lonely; He sleeps with the stars for a tent The bees spread a feast when he's hungry And God charges no rent He'll live as long as an old oak tree And laugh at fools like you and me Oh, I often sigh and wish that I Were the Old Man of the Mountain