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 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
Well the many hands began to scan around
for the next plateau
Some said it was in Greenland and some say Mexico
Others decided it was nowhere except
for where they stood
Those are all just guesses
Wouldn’t help you if they could
