Ask the man on the mountain
which way to run
Whichever you choose
will be the right one
which way to run
Whichever you choose
will be the right one
'Twas a prince of an evening
and the moon hung low
I was feeling like Mordred
when he struck the last blow
My sword hung poised
at the High King's throat
He begged for no mercy
but sang as he spoke :
Ask the man on the mountain
which way to run
Whichever you choose
will be the right one
Twelve crooked jurors
snuck in for the kill
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