Over the mountain, and through the dale,

The deer tramped out a winding trail.

Time after time, and day after day,

They went to drink the selfsame way.

Until at last, in that untamed land,

They carved a pathway in the sand.

Time marched on, and the settlers came,

To inhabit the land, and stake their claim.

Just why they did, was never made clear,

But they followed the path made by the deer.

They built their homes, and farmed the land,

Along the path carved in the sand.

And since those days that the settlers came,

There is not much there that looks the same.

Yet, that winding road so steep and drear,

Follows that path made by the deer.

And they travel that treacherous path today,

And have never sought for a better way.

In following the old established way,

Of the grand old men of yesterday.

Is that path they marked so clear,

A winding trail of some untamed deer?

Or was it made by the shepherd's feet,

To mark the path for his wondering sheep?