(Verse I) There was a man named Peter Bray, Who stacked the grain twelve carts a day. No sack was torn, no barrel broke, No horse was crushed beneath the yoke. The steward cried, “A man so grand Should surely oversee my lands!” The steward gave him what was fair So Peter rose from cart to chair. (Chorus) Up, up, up the ladder tall! And raise the best among them all! If he is great where now he stands, Then give him greater tasks and lands! Up, up, up! The trumpets sound! He works too well to leave him down For man must climb the upward race Till he finds his proper place! (Verse II) Now Peter felt most ill-prepared He tried so hard, yet still he erred. He scheduled carts that had no wheels And fed the soldiers horses' meals. Yet still the lord said, “Have no fear! His records show a fine last year! A steward praised throughout the shire Deserves promotion even higher!” (Chorus) Up, up, up the ladder tall! And raise the best among them all! If he is great where now he stands, Then give him greater tasks and lands! Up, up, up! The trumpets sound! He works too well to leave him down For man must climb the upward race Till he finds his proper place! (Verse III) Now Peter Sir, knew naught of tax, Of ledgers, law, or trade contracts. The coffers drained, the workers fled, The horses somehow all were wed. The lord exclaimed, “This cannot be! His former post spoke well of he!” The jester bowed and scratched his chin: “Pray put him where he once could win.” (Verse IV) “Nay!” cried the lord. “That would demean A man who rose through ranks so clean! He cannot now descend below— Promotion only upward goes!” So higher still poor Peter sent, To royal court and government. And soon the king, impressed by name, Made Bray commander of the same. (Chorus) Up, up, up the ladder tall! And raise the best among them all! If he is great where now he stands, Then give him greater tasks and lands! Up, up, up! The trumpets sound! He works too well to leave him down For man must climb the upward race Till he finds his proper place! (Bridge — spoken) A baker bakes a splendid pie— So make him judge! I know not why. A swordsman wins each tourney bout— Put him in charge of grain throughout! A shepherd keeps his lambs alive— He’ll surely make the kingdom thrive! And should your finest mason shine— Why, take his hammer! He’ll do fine! (Final Verse) The army marched at break of noon, Invaded us, and lost by June. And at the feet of Peter Bray, Was laid the blame, to his dismay So raise your finest cartwright, sire, But know two things you then acquire: A steward who knows naught of men— And loss of one good cartwright then! (Final Chorus) Up, up, up the ladder tall! And raise the best and watch them fall! Then wonder why the wheels come free When masters leave their mastery! Up, up, up! The lord decreed: His biggest fish should climb a tree! That every man may rise in time So fools and failure become sublime!
