I found a little song bird
lying wounded on the ground
I picked him up and 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 ******* crow!
Bird
Dec 11, 2011
Dec 11, 2011 at 4:29 AM UTC
I found a little song bird
lying wounded on the ground
I picked him up and 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 ******* crow!
Bird
Request permission to use this poem