The mountain is a King,
Majestic in every way,
Royalty he does display.
He sits on his throne so grand,
And looks about throughout his land.
Upon his head is a lofty crown,
Made of snow-white clouds,
His glory is seen all around,
Surely he is renown!
He wears kingly attire,
A robe of forest green,
In respect call him sire,
Then his approval you will glean.
He is mostly calm and gentle,
Yet do not be misled,
For his anger can be detrimental,
Then his temper you will dread.