The Little Bird.

I found a little songbird

lying wounded on the ground,

i picked him up held him close, 

listening for a sound.

His tiny eyes they opened

such haunted eyes were they,

a tear it spilled so softly

and then I heard him say.

i used to love a lovely girl

but my love it was in vain,

for her I'd fly to the end of time

and all the way back again.

But she was taken from me

by one who cannot sing,

her love she gives him freely

our past means not a thing.

So if you see this lovely girl

there's a thing I'd like to know,

how come she shot the nightingale...

then married a fucking crow!