 | Ailes d'Alouette |  |
36
A WASTED WORD
I was
a fiddler playing
Alone to a crowded hall;
And what my fingers were saying
No one knew of them all.
Alone to a crowded hall;
And what my fingers were saying
No one knew of them all.
I love you! I love you! I love you!—
I played it soft and loud;
And you were there and heard it,
And knew no more than the crowd.
I played it soft and loud;
And you were there and heard it,
And knew no more than the crowd.
| Ailes d'Alouette | |