From the moment I first took an alpine taste
I knew that my first eighteen years had been a waste
I resolved in phrases strong
I’d be heading for the West each time the days were getting long

Well, soon eight thousand feet up I did stand
And within half an hour I had a hammer in my hand
We would work, and we would play
And we would sing around the fire at the closing of the day

Our Rocky Mountain home
It wasn’t built of wood and it wasn’t built of stone
It was built of our intention, our intention was to roam
There was no holding on to our Rocky Mountain home

In the morning, spirits rise up from the lake
Yes, and sometimes in the morning our leave we’d have to take
Though those departures saw me broken and bereft
I knew I’d never write a song if I never left

Our Rocky Mountain home
It wasn’t built of wood and it wasn’t built of stone
It was built of all our youthfulness, as soon as we had grown
We had a place no longer in our Rocky Mountain home

Yes, each time cool and wan September came
Yes, each time the feeling was more or less the same
I could run, but I couldn’t hide
From the future that awaited me across the great divide

Our Rocky Mountain home
It wasn’t built of wood and it wasn’t built of stone
It was built of all our longings, and once our oats were sown
We had a use no longer for our Rocky Mountain home

It was built of our ambition, our ambition was to roam
No, there was no holding on to our Rocky Mountain home