Little Boys Blues

You were sweet and innocent

And only seventeen seventeen

A beautiful summer’s day

And so to church you rode away

Birds singing in the sky

Philosophers wondering why

While vagabonds such as I

Sing our songs and cry

And vagabonds not like me

Stare lustfully at you through the trees

They raped you took your life

With a cudgel and a knife

Little boys’ blues

What can we do

We might come from Hell

But we’re too young to tell

Little boys’ blues

What can we do

We might come from Hell

But we’re too young to tell

Found your body cold and still

Abused amongst the daffodils

God you allow this deed

Do you condone this greed

A father and a mother’s grief

Are told but without release

And when they moved the young girl’s head

The soil it bled

A church built where she died

How her mother and father cried

A church built on belief

A church built on grief

Little boys’ blues

What can we do

We might come from Hell

But we’re too young to tell

Little boys’ blues

What can we do

We might come from Hell

But we’re too young to tell

Little boys’ blues

Little boys’ blues

Little boys’ blues

Little boys’ blues