High in the Alps,
In the south of Germany,
Lies Bavaria,
A beautiful treasure for all to see.

Garmisch-Partenkirschen
Is a winter wonderland,
But we went in summer,
And found it to be no less grand.

We rode the tram
In the early morn,
To the top of the Zugspitze,
But there was a bit of a storm,
And the view was obscured by clouds.

We met a man named Ralf
On the tram ride down,
And we saw him later in the day,
When we ambled into town,
And he told us of his nine years on the mountain.

We found a stube
With really great beer,
It was Ralf's favorite place
When he needed some cheer,
And he introduced us to all of his friends.

In the corner of the bar
Sat a mountain of a man,
He was as big as a car,
And had mammoth hands,
And Ralf said, "This is Josef".

He was playing cards,
And spinning yarns,
And all the while he drank beer.
He had a double chin,
And a mischievious grin,
And he eyed us with a bit of suspicion.

I bought him a beer,
And then another,
And after three more,
You'd have thought he was my brother,
And we whiled away the afternoon.

His English was poor,
My German a bore,
But somehow we managed to communicate.
He sang me a song,
The only english one he'd known,
"Way Down Upon the Swannee River".

As stories of the road might go,
This one was no special show,
But I connected with a guy I can call friend.
So if you make it to Garmisch,
And go for a beer,
And you spot a man who's giant and strong,
Please buy him a drink,
But don't ask him to sing you a song.