When I’m on my mountain,
After hiking to the highest point,
I look down to our camp’s lake,
Then beyond that I see rows and rows of wooden cabins,
Each tree is different but they come together to be one mountain,
Like different people who join together to be one,

I can look to my mountain,
Full of different shades of green,
It is like a cone,
With the tip at the top,
It then grows larger the further I go down,
Strangers who begin their journey’s at the bottom,
Will always come together at the top,




I have known of this mountain since I first came to camp,
Which were years and years ago,
After repeatedly gazing into its surface,
It has slowly become more and more of a part of me,
So by now it feels like a friend,
Like something that you know will always be there for you.


Pleasant Mountain is my lucky charm,
Everyone needs one,
We need something we can rely on for luck,
Something that we know,
No matter what happens,
Will always be there for us,
And Pleasant Mountain is that for me.

When at camp, I’m always happy,
It’s no coincidence,
At camp nothing bad ever happens to me,
And that’s because I always have my mountain watching over me.