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Early each day to the steps of Saint Paul's |
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The little old bird woman comes. |
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In her own special way to the people she calls, |
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"Come, buy my bags full of crumbs. |
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Come feed the little birds, show them you care |
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And you'll be glad if you do. |
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Their young ones are hungry, |
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Their nests are so bare; |
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All it takes is tuppence from you." |
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Feed the birds, tuppence a bag, |
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Tuppence, tuppence, tuppence a bag. |
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"Feed the birds," that's what she cries, |
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While overhead, her birds fill the skies. |
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All around the cathedral the saints and apostles |
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Look down as she sells her wares. |
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Although you can't see it, you know they are smiling |
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Each time someone shows that he cares. |
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Though her words are simple and few, |
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Listen, listen, she's calling to you: |
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"Feed the birds, tuppence a bag, |
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Tuppence, tuppence, tuppence a bag." |
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"Feed the birds, tuppence a bag"... |
