The season was upon us and with faces all aglow
We went out to make a person from the mounds of sandy snow.
Our sandals were a-flapping as we scuttled hither and yon
To find that perfect place of grit for our Sandy Mon.
With buckets, hoses, tubs of goo we toiled on through the night
No matter what we tried he just wouldn't come out right.
Instead of a majestic man made up of nested balls
He looked instead like he came from a twenty story fall!
But we shall not surrender, as the sun peeks over a hill,
Our Sandy Mon will be made, regardless of the bill!
And sitting here in the sand I think I have a clue
The problem is where to find such quantities of glue.