Ingrid Bergman, you're so perty,
you'd make any mountain quiver
You'd make fire fly from the crater,
Ingrid Bergman

This old mountain it's been waiting
All its life for you to work it
For your hand to touch its hardrock,
Ingrid Bergman, Ingrid Bergman

If you'll walk across my camera,
I will flash the world your story,
I will pay you more than money, Ingrid Bergman

Not by pennies dimes nor quarters,
but with happy sons and daughters,
And they'll sing around Stromboli,
Ingrid Bergman

WORDS: Woody Guthrie 1950 - MUSIC: Billy Bragg