Sparrow

No eyes are on the sparrow, eyes are on the sparrow
He is singing anyway
The lark keeps whistling his number, silly little number
Although he’s being chased
And no eyes are on the sparrow, eyes are on the sparrow
How could that be the case?
The lark keeps whistling his number, silly little number
As if he isn’t prey

And they’re calling Maria
Momma, Momma Maria
They’re calling Maria

No eyes are on the sparrow, eyes are on the sparrow
I could’ve told you that
The finch is gathering the branches
Ignoring all the chances the wind will blow it flat

And they’re calling Maria
Momma, Momma Maria
They’re calling Maria