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 . . .