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 choir kept singing of freedom
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 That cold autumn morning no eyes saw the sun
 And Addie Mae Collins, her number was one
 In an old Baptist church there was no need to run
 And the choir kept singing of freedom
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 The clouds, they were dark and the autumn wind blew
 And Denise McNair brought the number to two
 The falcon of death was a creature they knew
 And the choir kept singing of freedom
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 The church, it was crowded and no one could see
 That Cynthia Wesley's dark number was three
 Her prayers and her feelings would shame you and me
 And the choir kept singing of freedom
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 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 choir kept singing of freedom
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 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 choir kept singing of freedom
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 The men in the forest, they once asked of me
 How many black berries grow 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, 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 choir keeps singing of freedom