|
A poor orphan named Maria |
|
Was walking to market one day |
|
She stopped for a rest by the roadside |
|
Where a bird with a broken wing lay |
|
A few moments passed till she saw it |
|
For it's feathers were covered in sand |
|
But soon clean and wrapped, it was traveling |
|
In the warmth of Maria's small hand |
|
She happily gave her last peso |
|
On a cage made of brush and twine |
|
She fed it loose corn from the market |
|
And watched it grow stronger with time |
|
Now the Christmas Eve service was coming |
|
And the church shone with tinsel and light |
|
And all of the townfolks brought presents |
|
To lay by the manger that night |
|
There were diamonds and incense and perfumes |
|
In packages fit for a king |
|
But for one ragged bird in a small cage |
|
Maria had nothing to bring |
|
She waited till just before midnight |
|
So no one would see her go in |
|
And crying she knelt by the manger |
|
For her gift was unworthy of Him |
|
Then a voice spoke to her through the darkness |
|
Maria, what brings you to me |
|
If the bird in the cage is your offering |
|
Open the door and let me see |
|
Though she trembled, she did as He asked her |
|
And out of the cage the bird flew |
|
Soaring up inot the rafters |
|
On a wing that had healed good as new |
|
Just then the midnight bells rang out |
|
And the little bird started to sing |
|
A song that no words could recapture |
|
Whose beauty was fit for a king |
|
Now Maria felt blessed just to listen |
|
To that cascade of notes sweet and long |
|
As her offering was lifted to heaven |
|
By the very nightingale's song |