And mountainous competitors so grand,
There comes to life a rivalry that echoes once a year,
When entering a battle of the bands.
There isn't much contention for the animals en masse,
For every year the groups assured are two,
The Spring Lems from the lowlands with their bass-like bleating beat,
The Mountain Chamois with their showmen-woo.
Beginning in the fields there is a sound that resonates,
A tapestry of ragtime rock n' roll,
The Spring Lems work together as a rhythmic sound machine,
Their fuzzy, wooly costumes to extol.
Then soaring up the precipice to monumental heights,
An operatic bellowing takes hold,
The aerobatic nature of these solo artists peaks,
When galavanting in the frosty cold.
The philharmonic playground of this annual concord,
Inspires even hibernating beasts.
No matter who the champion, all soul-fed melody,
Reverberate in celebrating feasts.
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