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 . . .