The boulder in the square that no one can carry
Every strong person has tried to remove it
It stays firmly in place, why no one has the wit
To figure out a plan, a wrong way too ferry

As the young boy sits there, hammering the center
Pieces come off of it, flying of windy dust
The folks hardly notice, the shrinking ball of crust
The sight is forgotten, of this big rock's mentor

The young boy is now man, and continues his wash
The daily chiseling of this massive round stone
To phantom the city of its infamous throne

It disappears from sight, but the hole is panache
A statue is erected of this young boy's life's quest
Of a boulder chiselled, by a hand that knows best