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I've been over Snowdon, I've slept upon CrowdonI've camped by the Waynestones as wellI've sunbathed on Kinder, been burned to a cinderAnd many more things I can tellMy rucksack has oft been me pillowThe heather has oft been me bedAnd sooner than part from the mountainsI think I would rather be deadCh: I'm a rambler, I'm a rambler from Manchester way I get all me pleasure the hard moorland way I may be a wageslave on Monday But I am a free man on SundayThe day was just ending and I was descendingDown Grinesbrook just by Upper TorWhen a voice cried "Hey you" in the way keepers doHe'd the worst face that ever I sawThe things that he said were unpleasantIn the teeth of his fury I said"Sooner than part from the mountainsI think I would rather be dead"He called me a louse and said "Think of the grouse"Well i thought, but I still couldn't seeWhy all Kinder Scout and the moors roundaboutSongtexteCouldn't take both the poor grouse and meHe said "All this land is my master's"At that I stood shaking my headNo man has the right to own mountainsAny more than the deep ocean bedI once loved a maid, a spot welder by tradeShe was fair as the Rowan in bloomAnd the bloom of her eye watched the blue Moreland skyI wooed her from April to JuneOn the day that we should have been marriedI went for a ramble insteadFor sooner than part from the mountainsI think I would rather be deadSo I'll walk where I will over mountain and hillAnd I'll lie where the bracken is deepI belong to the mountains, the clear running fountainsWhere the grey rocks lie ragged and steepI've seen the white hare in the gullysAnd the curlew fly high overheadAnd sooner than part from the mountainsI think I would rather be dead. Aus Songtexte Mania