I’m going to do this from memory, I swear by my Vast Right-Wing Conspiracy decoder ring:

Some day
We’ll build a home on a hilltop high
You and I
Shiny and new
A cottage that two can fill
And we’ll be pleased to be called
The folks who live on the hill.
Some day
We may be adding a wing or two
A thing or two
We will make changes
As any fam’ly will
And we’ll be pleased to be called
The folks who live on the hill.
Our veranda
Will command a
View — of meadows green –
The sort of view that seems to want to be seen.
And when the kids grow up and leave us
We’ll sit and look at that same old view
Just we two Baby and Joe, who used to be Jack and Jill
The folks who like to be called
What they have always been called:
The folks who live on the hill.

Argumentative sod that I am, I was going to gainsay you and argue that this is NOT the greatest pop song ever written; that the greatest pop song ever written was in fact X, or Y, or Z. Now I hear the thing in my head, though, I think you may be right.