Bristlecone Pine

Way up in the mountains
 On the high timberline
 Lives a twisted old tree
 Called the bristlecone pine
 The wind there is bitter
 It cuts like a knife
 And it keeps that tree holding
 On for dear life
 But hold on it does
 Standing it's ground
 Standing as empires
 Rise and fall down
 When Jesus was gathering
 Lambs to his fold
 This tree was already
 A thousand years old
 Now the way I have lived
 There ain't no way to tell
 When I die if I'm going
 To heaven or hell
 So when I'm laid to rest
 It would suit me just fine
 To sleep at the feet of
 The bristlecone pine
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 For as I would slowly
 Return to the earth
 What little this body
 Of mine might be worth
 Would soon start to nourish
 The roots of that tree
 And it would partake of
 The essence of me
 And who knows but that as
 The centuries turn
 A small spark of me might
 Continue to burn
 As long as the sun did
 Continue to shine
 
 Down on the limbs of
 The bristlecone pine
 Now the way I have lived
 There ain't no way to tell
 When I die if I'm going
 To heaven or hell
 So I'd just as soon serve out
 Eternity's time
 Asleep at the feet of
 The bristlecone pine
 Asleep at the feet of
 The bristlecone pine