Stander On the Mountain

He stands there in his hallowed halls Looking over the crowds Meet me on the field of legends below the Tower And he sees the colorful star Looks him up and down He sees a little of himself in number eleven's frown Looking for the next dreamer to wake up And make some memories before his day of destiny calls King of the Mountain Tasted of the Real Thing The crunch of victory, a Golden Sunday when he was the one The Stander of the Mountain is among us Let us sit and talk of old times When the men of Davy Crockett's range and the Plains Withered in a crimson heat Well even the Hurricane winds obeyed at one Lonestar Disciple's feet Uniter of the kids of cotton fields, the city streets The gateways where greatness gets a second birth King of the Mountain Nothing could be finer than the red cross Waving high again in such uncivil days Mulitudes from William Penn's land to Trojan soil took notice Packoderm portraits indelible strokes painted by its sage Well it will be knocking on your door tonight He wants to see if you can remember right The lessons carved in limestone and a wishbone leg The echos of Saturday soliliquys striking a unison of chords The stripes from gentle hands of steel shaping a warrior's reward The fuel for another march up life's greatest hills When it was over The world sat there and looked stunned My old friend watching the setting of his day Tomorrow was way in the distance Nobody could think much about it There is nothing wrong if we remember today I recall when you bowed before the Land of Lincoln crowd The Million Dollar sounds rang in Graceland town The girls in short skirts screaming loud Stander on the Mountain Looking for a new place to dream from To reap from the seeds sown yesterday The big man around town Nothing could be finer than to drink from To think from the cup passed from your old sage When he was the one Stander on the Mountain is among us The Cap will never go away