The Epic of the Star-Struck Lithicist
(sung to the tune of the Beverly Hillbillies)
Now folks, here's a story 'bout a guy named Cro
An archaeologist, always going with the flow
Then one day, he was searchin' for a site
When he found a lot of chert, lots of flakes of red and white
Flint, that is.
Petén quartz-y.
Chalcedony.
Now next thing you know, that Cro is on a tear.
"We've got to excavate, right here, and there, and there."
He pulls out some string, and he ties it to the stakes,
When straight up the hill comes the owner of the flakes.
Jerk, that is.
Asinine,
All the time.
Don Angel says, there's treasure on my land
I'll put up a fuss, cancel everything he's planned,
I'll keep saying 'no' till he leaves the site alone
And then I'll come right back and sack it on my own.
Dig, that is,
Looter's bold
Find the gold.
He digs down a foot, and he finds that nothing's there.
So he digs another foot, and the gringo says "Beware!
It's totally illegal this thing you're tryin' to do."
But Don Angel smells the cash, and digs another two…
Feet, that is.
Going down
Underground.
The path to dig the chert goes through the bureaucrats
Who shrug and scratch their heads, underneath the wide-brimmed hats
They type another letter and they pass the buck along
And act all surprised when that doesn't right the wrong
It didn't work?
Shocked, that's me
How can it be?
"The next step," says Cro, is to find in our bureau
A person who'll step up and help this nice gringo.
For six months straight, he fought bureaucracy
And had given up the fight, decided it was crazy.
Loco even
Wackiness
A loser's mess
The Judge called up Cro, and said, "We'll go today.
So drive on down, and we'll be on our way.
We're bringing in the guns, and we'll be at your side,
Really! Don't be scared! Don't turn your back and hide!"
Coward, she says
Seems afraid
To be flayed.
(Banjo interlude)
Cro said "I fear no man. It's not for fear I stay.
The guy just hates my guts, this gringo stays away.
The director of the project – Adriana is her name
She can face the dude – it's a Guate-only game.
Not foreigner
A national
Who's rational
She listened to him talk, and she decided then and there.
"The site, it must be saved. I can let you dig – that's fair.
I'll give to you a note that's good for fifteen days,
You can dig 'til then, through the silts, the sands, the clays.
Dig away
In a flurry
Lotsa hurry
"I'm going home tomorrow, for two whole weeks!" he cried.
"You'd better dig today.," the judge at once replied.
"How can I do that?" Cro whined. "The day is almost through.
Diggin takes up lots of time, and I gotta dig two."
Units, that is.
Two by twos.
Real bad news.
"And even more than that," he said, "I have to hire the men;
Workers who can dig, really stick the shovel in.
By now they will have gone, and what am I to do?
I'd have to dig myself, instead of hiring two."
Local boys
Maybe three
To help me.
"Well, I suppose, this deal will have to wait.
I'll send some police down, we'll set the matter straight."
She turned and sent ten men, and to each she gave a gun;
She armed them just to make real sure Don Angel wouldn't run
Caught him now
Guy with rage,
Sign the page
They went on down to talk, and the owner said his piece.
"I only want what's right. Make it worth the lease!
Three thousand sounds real good! C'mon! What do ya say?"
So they called up old Cro, and said "You wanna pay?"
Mordida
Bribery
Be nice to me.
Old Cro's in a fix – by the law he cannot pay.
The stuff that's underground is not his anyway.
He can't pay a bribe, 'cause that's against the law
And the land is worth much less; that deal is way too raw.
Profit, that is.
Make a buck
Dig some muck.
At last they all agree, and sign the document
And even Don Angel really seems content
For the only little thing that he got to stipulate
"The people who will dig won't include someone I hate."
Politicos
No enemies
Pretty please.
So Cro has to go and fire some friends so dear.
He hates to do it but, if he really must dig here,
Then that is the line that he really has to toe,
So long, then dear Jorge, Paco and Tirso.
Excavators,
Friends of mine
Quarantine
So that ends my tale of bureaucrats galore
Now I get to dig, that's the ending of the gore.
And even though I know that I'll have to add a verse,
I have to admit, it could have been far worse
But only
if the permits
were being handled
by Darth Vader!
(sung to the tune of the Beverly Hillbillies)
Now folks, here's a story 'bout a guy named Cro
An archaeologist, always going with the flow
Then one day, he was searchin' for a site
When he found a lot of chert, lots of flakes of red and white
Flint, that is.
Petén quartz-y.
Chalcedony.
Now next thing you know, that Cro is on a tear.
"We've got to excavate, right here, and there, and there."
He pulls out some string, and he ties it to the stakes,
When straight up the hill comes the owner of the flakes.
Jerk, that is.
Asinine,
All the time.
Don Angel says, there's treasure on my land
I'll put up a fuss, cancel everything he's planned,
I'll keep saying 'no' till he leaves the site alone
And then I'll come right back and sack it on my own.
Dig, that is,
Looter's bold
Find the gold.
He digs down a foot, and he finds that nothing's there.
So he digs another foot, and the gringo says "Beware!
It's totally illegal this thing you're tryin' to do."
But Don Angel smells the cash, and digs another two…
Feet, that is.
Going down
Underground.
The path to dig the chert goes through the bureaucrats
Who shrug and scratch their heads, underneath the wide-brimmed hats
They type another letter and they pass the buck along
And act all surprised when that doesn't right the wrong
It didn't work?
Shocked, that's me
How can it be?
"The next step," says Cro, is to find in our bureau
A person who'll step up and help this nice gringo.
For six months straight, he fought bureaucracy
And had given up the fight, decided it was crazy.
Loco even
Wackiness
A loser's mess
The Judge called up Cro, and said, "We'll go today.
So drive on down, and we'll be on our way.
We're bringing in the guns, and we'll be at your side,
Really! Don't be scared! Don't turn your back and hide!"
Coward, she says
Seems afraid
To be flayed.
(Banjo interlude)
Cro said "I fear no man. It's not for fear I stay.
The guy just hates my guts, this gringo stays away.
The director of the project – Adriana is her name
She can face the dude – it's a Guate-only game.
Not foreigner
A national
Who's rational
She listened to him talk, and she decided then and there.
"The site, it must be saved. I can let you dig – that's fair.
I'll give to you a note that's good for fifteen days,
You can dig 'til then, through the silts, the sands, the clays.
Dig away
In a flurry
Lotsa hurry
"I'm going home tomorrow, for two whole weeks!" he cried.
"You'd better dig today.," the judge at once replied.
"How can I do that?" Cro whined. "The day is almost through.
Diggin takes up lots of time, and I gotta dig two."
Units, that is.
Two by twos.
Real bad news.
"And even more than that," he said, "I have to hire the men;
Workers who can dig, really stick the shovel in.
By now they will have gone, and what am I to do?
I'd have to dig myself, instead of hiring two."
Local boys
Maybe three
To help me.
"Well, I suppose, this deal will have to wait.
I'll send some police down, we'll set the matter straight."
She turned and sent ten men, and to each she gave a gun;
She armed them just to make real sure Don Angel wouldn't run
Caught him now
Guy with rage,
Sign the page
They went on down to talk, and the owner said his piece.
"I only want what's right. Make it worth the lease!
Three thousand sounds real good! C'mon! What do ya say?"
So they called up old Cro, and said "You wanna pay?"
Mordida
Bribery
Be nice to me.
Old Cro's in a fix – by the law he cannot pay.
The stuff that's underground is not his anyway.
He can't pay a bribe, 'cause that's against the law
And the land is worth much less; that deal is way too raw.
Profit, that is.
Make a buck
Dig some muck.
At last they all agree, and sign the document
And even Don Angel really seems content
For the only little thing that he got to stipulate
"The people who will dig won't include someone I hate."
Politicos
No enemies
Pretty please.
So Cro has to go and fire some friends so dear.
He hates to do it but, if he really must dig here,
Then that is the line that he really has to toe,
So long, then dear Jorge, Paco and Tirso.
Excavators,
Friends of mine
Quarantine
So that ends my tale of bureaucrats galore
Now I get to dig, that's the ending of the gore.
And even though I know that I'll have to add a verse,
I have to admit, it could have been far worse
But only
if the permits
were being handled
by Darth Vader!
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