Many a hand has scaled
The grand old face of the plateau
Some belong to strangers,
And some to folks you know
Holy ghosts and talk show hosts
Are planted in the sand
To beautify the foothills,
And shake the many hands
Nothing on the top
But a bucket and a mop
And an illustrated book about birds
You see a lot up there
But don't be scared
Who needs action
When you got words
When you've finished with the mop,
Then you can stop
And look at what you've done
The plateau's clean,
No dirt to be seen
And the work, it was fun
Nothing on the top
But a bucket and a mop
And an illustrated book about birds
You see a lot up there
But don't be scared
Who needs action
When you got words
Many hands began to scan around
For the next plateau
Some said it was Greenland,
And some say Mexico
Others decided it was nowhere
Except for where they stood
But those were all just guesses
Wouldn't help you if they could