The Heroine of the Ebenalp

‘Twas on a sunny afternoon one day in late July,
We all went mountaineering ‘neath the Appenzeller sky.
We didn’t mind the Ebenalp, nor fear its lofty peak,
For we’d walked up the muck road more than three times every week.

Upwards, upwards, ever up, we scaled the mountain track,
As Urs bravely led the way, Louise brought up the back.
Eventually we reached the top, the first who ever had,
And sat down on the terrace of the café, feeling glad.

We stayed awhile upon the top, admiring the view,
I had some Elmer Citro, then I went and found the loo.
Soon enough we had to leave and, knapsacks on our back,
We gazed around one final time and headed down the track.

At first the path was easyish, for we knew where to go,
And reasoned we would soon be down beside the lake below.
But after half an hour had passed, the path split into two,
And Urs decided we’d head right and disappeared from view.

The mountain track now disimproved, impairing our descent.
Great boulders and wide fissures dogged us everywhere we went.
Every step that we advanced was gained with blood and sweat –
It turned into an evening none of us would e’er forget.

But Monica did not give up, she battled on although
She suffered a great setback, when she badly bruised her toe.
Cheerfully she laughed and joked, while we all cursed and frowned,
Descending slowly in the gloom with danger all around.

Eventually we met a cow, which told us all was well,
And it was nearly over, our great journey into hell.
And, by the time we reached the car, the stars were shining bright,
But, thanks to our brave heroine, the party was alright.