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Frosty the Surveyor, was a crusty sunburned soul,
With a brass plumb bob and a gammon reel, and a beat up prism pole.

Frosty the Surveyor, is a party chief, they say.
He was made of dirt, but the crew knows he drinks whiskey every day.

There must have been some magic in that old plumb bob they found,
For when they placed it in his hand, he began to dig around!

Oh, Frosty, the Surveyor, was alive as he could be;
and the crew says he could calc and stake,
even find a witness tree.

Frosty the Surveyor, knew the wind was fast that day,
so he said, “Let’s run this traverse and close this loop now, before I blow away.”

Down to the construction site, with a shovel in his hand,
Pacing here and there, all around the subdivision,
sayin’, “Turn here if you can.”

He led them down the rights-of-way, directly to the POB;
and only paused a moment, when the shiny aluminum he could see.

Tappity tap, tap, tappity tap, tap,
Look at Frosty plot
Tappity tap, tap, tappity tap, tap,
Over every graded lot.

Frosty the Surveyor, was a crusty sunburned soul,
With a brass plumb bob and a gammon reel, and a beat up prism pole.

Frosty, the Surveyor, had to hurry to the bar.
But he flipped them off, sayin’, “Don’t you whine, I’ll be back the next calm day!”

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