The Troll and the Mountain Dedicated to the Great Said the Troll to the Mountain, 'Old fellow, how goes it?' The Mountain responded, 'My answer--suppose it.' Said the Troll, 'Dear old friend, you are grumpy to-day.' Said the Mountain, 'I think you had best run away.' The Troll said, 'You suffer, old boss, from the blues.' The Mountain retorted, 'I may if I choose.' 'Ah, that,' cried the Troll, 'is effect of the liver.' 'Take care,' quoth the Hill, 'or I'll give you the shiver.' 'By my cap and its feather,' the Spirit replies, 'You'll be getting too portly without exercise.' 'You pert little fly,' said the Rock in a rage, 'I will teach you to chaff at a hill of my age.' So he jump'd up to punish the impudent Fay, Who wisely retorted by running away; Until the old Mountain broke right down the middle, When back he came nimbly and played on the fiddle. My Advice to all Mountains that make such a stir, it's 'Don't get in a passion with pert little spirits.'