Hier, j'ai parlé avec une sorcière On a discuté football et poésie, hier Puis je lui ai dit que j'aimerais qu'elle m'apprenne A kidnapper son mini-mini-mini-mini derrière. Alors elle m'a transformé en chat comme ça, Petit roux tigré, les dents cassées, Genre chat de gouttière.
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
The 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 took was fun
Well the many hands began to scan around for the next plateau Some said it was in Greenland and some in Mexico
Some decided it was nowhere except for where they stood But they were all just guesses, wouldn't help you if they could