Now she was a pretty young Swiss girl, I met on a mountain stroll
She'd a bright blue eye that would make you sigh
She seemed a congenial soul
She'd everything in her favour, she'd youth and beauty and all
But she made me sad with a trick she had of singing a mountain call.

Refrain: Tra la, tra la, Tra la la la la
She'd keep this song going all night and all day
Tra la, tra la, Tra la la la la
But that was all I could get her to say.

I tried her with 'Parlez vous francais?' and everything else I knew
With fervour intent, but she hadn't the sense to even say 'how do you do'
I knelt and said I adored her and placed my hand on my heart
But 'twas all no good, she might have been wood
For she simply made a start with.


Of course I felt quite excited to clutch at her hand I tried
But making a slip, I took a short trip clean over the mountain side
But a projecting tree, 'twas lucky, saved me a nasty fall
On a branch I hung, while the maiden sung just simply that jodel call.


They lowered a rope, up they dragged me with many a scratch and bruise
I was ready to cry, I'd a nice black-eye with rainbow-coloured hues
'Oh where is my mountain maiden?' I cried, though it seems absurd
But they simply laughed, and thought me daft and far, far away I heard.


And then they told me the maiden, who'd got me into the fix
Was a crazy jade, and she wasn't a maid, but instead was a mother of six
Her husband was in the asylum, 'Another good man gone wrong'
It was rather sad, but she'd driven him mad by singing her favourite song.

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