| I met her at the mission
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| Living just this side of sin
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| Her mouth was soft and when she spoke
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| Lord, I fell right in
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| She had a baby in a blanket
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| A dollar and a half
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| She looked a little leery
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| She let out a little laugh
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| Opened up my overcoat
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| Invited them inside
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| Two fragile little flowers
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| With nowhere left to hide
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| She said her old man left her
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| Just before the baby came
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| I could feel the tears well up inside
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| Each time she spoke his name
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| Swing low, swing low
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| Sweet angel face
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| Why would such a simple child
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| Come to such a place?
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| We talked until the wind died down
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| The baby woke and stirred
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| She made a little hushing sound
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| Spoke some magic word
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| The baby yawned and smiled at me
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| But she said: «We can’t stay.»
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| She thanked me for my kindness
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| Turned and walked away
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| Swing low, swing low
|
| Sweet angel face
|
| Why would such a simple child
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| Come to such a place?
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| I think about them all the time
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| And hope they found their home
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| Seems that it’s my calling now
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| To walk these streets alone
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| Sometimes when the wind is right
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| I can smell her sweet perfume
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| I think about the warm embrace
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| That ended all too soon
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| Swing low, swing low
|
| Sweet angel face
|
| Why would such a simple child
|
| Come to such a place?
|
| Oh, oh, oh, why would such a simple child
|
| Come to such a place? |