Ridgetop

Well, I live on a ridgetop And, Lord knows, I like it just fine Where it's windy and foggy And quiet most all the time Yeah, my lawn is pine needles And my driveway is old funky dirt And my front pathway markers Are pieces of granite and chert Now, my taxes are high But I don't believe it's a sin I've got hundred foot pine trees That just love to dance in the wind And a yard full of bushes That turn into pie in July Between blue jays and hoot owls I've got twenty-four hour singing sky Now, when I built my house I cut six trees to clear out the land But there's thirty or more left And you know that they're gonna stand It's a squirrel sanctuary They think this woods is their home And as long as I'm here I'll make sure people leave us all alone Yes, the hill that I live on is steep And the road's full of ruts And the people who live in the flatlands Think we folks are nuts But the ruts in my road and the curves Keep the tourists at bay And it's lonesome and peaceful And you know I like it that way Now, I work in the city I think my job is a gas And I know it's good for me To travel and get off my ass But the nervous parts of each trip Is the Golden Gate Bridge And the road like a snake That will lead me back home to my ridge Ah, I live on a ridgetop Yes, I live on a ridgetop And I like it And I like it . . .