Birmingham Sunday

Come round by my side and I'll sing you a song

I'll sing it so softly, it'll do no one wrong

On Birmingham Sunday the blood ran like wine

And the choirs kept singing of freedom

That cold autumn morning no eyes saw the sun

And Addie Mae Collins, her number was one

At an old Baptist church there was no need to run

And the choirs kept singing of freedom

The clouds they were grey and the autumn wind blew

And Denise McNair brought the number to two

The falcon of death was a creature they knew

And the choirs kept singing of freedom

The church it was crowded, but no one could see

That Cynthia Wesley's dark number was three

Her prayers and her feelings would shame you and me

And the choirs kept singing of freedom

Young Carol Robertson entered the door

And the number her killers had given was four

She asked for a blessing but asked for no more

And the choirs kept singing of freedom

On Birmingham Sunday a noise shook the ground

And people all over the earth turned around

For no one recalled a more cowardly sound

And the choirs kept singing of freedom

The men in the forest they once asked of me

How many black berries grew in the Blue Sea

I asked them right back with a tear in my eye

How many dark ships in the forest?

The Sunday has come and the Sunday has gone

And I can't do much more than to sing you a song

I'll sing it so softly, it'll do no one wrong

And the choirs keep singing of freedom