Lyrics:
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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.
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 choir kept singing of freedom.
The clouds they were gray and the autumn winds 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.
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 choir 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 choir kept singing of freedom.
On Birmingham Sunday the 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.
The men in the forest, they asked it of me,
How many blackberries grew in the blue sea?
And I asked them right 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 this song.
I'll sing it so softly, it'll do no one wrong
And the choirs keep singing of freedom.
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