They gather at the well of hope Will pockets filled with pennies They look at each other’s thoughts Thinking they haven’t got any And this always seems to be the time They sit planing each other’s mind What’s good for them is good for all That’s what they always think As they toss the pennies one by one Beyond the well’s brink Always mumbling something that They think every one should have In unison they toss and talk While the world goes on around They never look each other in the eye But at the pennies on the ground Then grumble when they need more To continue what they gather for Sometimes it all goes on for days Until each pocket is empty They’ll be frustrated if they haven’t bought a soul Or at least controlled the many Then holding out their empty hands They turn their backs to the empty well Crying out for more pennies For ideas they have to sell