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
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 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
 Now 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
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 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 Carole 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
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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 choirs kept singing of freedom
 Now the Sunday has come and the Sunday has gone
 And we can't do much more than to sing you a song
 We'll sing it so loudly, you better sing along
 And the choirs keep singing of freedom