In reply to jvarmstrong:
This has always been my favourite:
The dirty old highland climber
Came a wandering over the land
With his rucksack on his shoulder
And his ice-axe in his hand
With his great big north wall hammer
And his pitons hanging free
And yard and a half of nylon
Hanging down below his knee
Hanging down, swinging free Oscillating
merrily With a yard and a half of nylon
Hanging down below his knee
The Lady of the Manor
Was dressing for the Ball
When she spied the highland climber
Banging Pegs into the wall (who's Pegs)
She wrote to him a letter
And in it she did say
"I would rather climb with you, sir,
Than my husband any day!"
He rode up the Manor
He rode up to the hall
And he even made the butler
Do a lay back up the wall
The climber he is dead now
And buried in St. Pools
It took four and twenty mountain guides
To carry out his tools