{title:Sparrow}
{st:Paul Simon}
[Em]Who[D] will love a little sparrow,
Who’s travelled [C]far, and cries for [D]rest?
«Not [Em]I,» said the [A]oak tree.
«I [D]won’t share my branches with [A]no sparrow’s nest;
And my [D]blanket of leaves won’t w[A]arm her cold b[Em]reast.»
Who will love a little sparrow,
And who will speak a kindly word?
«Not I,» said the swan.
«The entire idea is utterly absurd;
I’d be laughed at and scorned if the other swans heard.»
And who will take pity in his heart,
And who will feed a starving sparrow?
«Not I,» said the golden wheat.
«I would if I could but I cannot I know;
For I need all my grain to prosper and grow.»
Who will love a little sparrow,
Will no one write her eulogy?
«I will,» said the Earth.
«For all I’ve created returns unto me;
From dust were ye made and dust ye shall be.»