Many a hand has scaled the grand old face of the
plateauSome belong to strangers and some to folks
you knowHoly ghosts and talk show hosts are
planted in the sandTo beautify the foothills and
shake the many hands
The nothing on the top but a bucket and a mopAnd
an illustrated book about birdsYou see a lot up
there but don't be scaredWho needs action when
you got words
When you've finished with the mop then you can
stopAnd look at what you've doneThe plateau's
clean, no dirt to be seenAnd the work it took was
fun
Well the many hands began to scan around for the
next plateauSome said it was in Greenland and
some in MexicoSome decided it was nowhere except
for where they stoodBut they were all just
guesses, wouldn't help you if they could
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