Jim Salestrom Bristlecone Pine Lyrics

A Strew of Wonder, by Roberta Fiester
Way up in the mountains on a high timberline, there's a twisted old tree called the Bristlecone Pine. The wind there is bitter; it cuts like a knife. It keeps that tree holding on for dear life.

But hold on it does, standing its ground. Standing as empires rise and fall down. When Jesus was gathering lambs to his fold, the tree was already a thousand years old.

Now the way I have lived there ain't no way to tell, when I die if I'm going to heaven or hell. So when I'm laid to rest it would suit me just fine to sleep at the feet of the Bristlecone Pine.

And as I would slowly return to this earth what little this body of mine might be worth would soon start to nourish the roots of that tree. And it would partake of the essence of me.

And who knows what's found as the centuries turn. A small spark of me might continue to burn. As long as the sun does continue to shine down on the limbs of the Bristlecone Pine.

Now the way I have lived there ain't no way to tell, when I die if I'm going to heaven or hell. When I'm laid to rest it would suit me just fine to sleep at the feet of the Bristlecone Pine....
To sleep at the feet of the Bristlecone Pine.
Way up in the mountains on a high timberline, there's a twisted old tree called the Bristlecone Pine. The wind there is bitter; it cuts like a knife. And it keeps that tree holding on for dear life.

But hold on it does, standing its ground. Standing as empires rise and fall down. When Jesus was gathering lambs to his fold, the tree was already a thousand years old.

Now the way I have lived there ain't no way to tell, when I die if I'm going to heaven or hell. So when I'm laid to rest it would suit me just fine to sleep at the feet of the Bristlecone Pine.

To sleep at the feet of the Bristlecone Pine.
To sleep at the feet of the Bristlecone Pine.