@migu music@

Birmingham Sunday - Rhiannon Giddens

Written by：Rhiannon Giddens/Dirk Powell/Richard Fariña

Come round by my side

And I'll sing you a song

Sing it so softly

It'll do no one wrong

Birmingham Sunday

The blood ran like wine

And the choirs 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 choirs kept singing of freedom

Now the clouds they were grey

And the autumn wind blew

Denise McNair brought the number to two

The falcon of death was a creature they knew

And the choirs kept singing of freedom

Hooo hooo hooo

Ohhhhhooo

Church it was crowded

The 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

Ohhh ohhh ohhh ohhh

Ohhhhoo

Ohhhhoo

Ohhh ohhh ohhh ohhh

Ohhhhoo

On Birmingham Sunday

A noise shook the ground

People all over the earth turned around

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

Sing it so loudly you better sing along

And the choirs keep singing of freedom

Ohhh ohhh ohhh ohhh

Ohhhhoo

Ohhhhoo

Ohhh ohhh ohhh ohhh

Ohhhhoo