There’s a lady whose time

Marks in rhythm and rhyme,

And she’s writing a stairway to heaven.

 

When she gets there, she knows,

If the bookstores are closed,

With the right word, she can get what she came for.

 

But today’s not that day.

All the words are put away.

And the staircase is littered with poets.

 

All in slumber and sleep,

Their quills gathered in heaps

And their parchment strewn to the heavens.

 

Oh, oh,oh, oh, and she’s writing a stairway to heaven.

 

 

 

Stairway to Heaven, Led Zeppelin, 1971