Hiram Bingham

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        Hiram Bingham

In search of ancient wonder,
Hiram Bingham set off to explore
for Inca Manco’s mansions,
and in a hut by a river shore,
he met Melchor Arteaga,
who, intrigued, joined the expedition,
showed them the secret valley,
stone steps led through a fruit plantation,
up jungle to mountain peak,
found white buildings, broken, but still grand,
they stood like drums to dance on,
platforms for the feet of gods to stand.

Oh, happily Hiram Bingham
searched for Manco’s mansions.

Hiram found the high temple
of the condor god, wide winged and wise.
There he knelt, and he gave thanks,
to find Incas of the ancient skies.
The Inca children loved him,
performed the condor dance, gave him gifts.
In Manco’s mansions, he lives,
where mist on the Urubamba lifts.
Narrow bridge of creepers,
he walks, over the hidden canyon
of river Apurimac,
he wears the cradle of gold medallion.

Oh, happily Hiram Bingham
lives in Manco’s mansions.

Hiram loved all mysteries,
went off in search of explanations.
Happily Hiram lives still
with the Incas of Manco’s mansions.

Oh, happily Hiram Bingham
lives in Manco’s mansions.

Hiram in Inca heaven
loves to watch the bird men land and fly,
has attained his condor wings,
knows the flight freedom of the sky.
He lives in Vilcabamba,
the lost city in the sky he found,
his house called Machu Picchu,
with wife and children, the wheel turns round.
Search for him not in Peru,
in the Andes, now well mapped and scanned,
free of the plumed serpent god,
he dwells in a fairer, higher land.

Oh, happily Hiram Bingham
lives in Vilcabamba.

 

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