Let The Little Boy Sing

Take you back to a cotton field in the heart of Louisiana.
Little boy ‘bout nine years old singin’ songs in the heart of the day.
Mama cried when her little boy sang.
She knew he could be someone special.
Mama cried ‘cause the way it was,
he would only be wasted away.
then his mama would pray.
And ev’ry night she would say,
“Help my boy if you can.
Take him, Lord, by the hand
and let the little boy sing.”
Got a feelin’ that takes you home
Got a melody all his own.
Let the little boy sing.

Let the little boy try.
Let the little boy by.
He can take you along
on the wings of his song.
Let the little boy fly.

Take you back to New Orleans where the music wakes up with the city,
to the bars by the railroad cars on the neon side of town.
Sang his song on the city streets,
and the people began to listen.
Southern boy, sing your Southern song.
You sing it like no one around.
Nobody walked by
without feelin’ high.
Never heard it before,
But they’d be callin’ for more.
Let the little boy sing.
Got a melody all his own.
Got a feelin’ that takes ya home.
Let the little boy sing.
Let the little boy fly.
Let the little boy try.
He can take you a long
on the wings of his song.
Let the little boy fly.
Let him take you away.

Let the little boy sing.
Got a feelin’ that takes you home.
Got a melody all his own.
Let the little boy sing.
Let the little boy try.
Let the little boy by.
He can take you along
on the wings of his song.
Let the little boy fly.
Just let the little boy sing.

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