Glacier, by Amory McKeever

Oh, them frozen bodies
floating down the maw
Poor bastard climbers

all victims of the thaw
Slain by the peaks

they sought to traverse
Only to find their hearts
riding in a hearse
What mountain is this
they challenged in vain?

T'was a Matterhorn of sorts
Shall I tell you her name?

Her eyes like wishing wells
begging for the silver

Her lips little liars
that whisper in your ears
Such breathtaking beauty
that much is clear,
but if you get too close
she'll send you down the sheer
So let this be a warning
if her face draws you in
You'll find you're not alone
in a graveyard full of men