paroles de chanson The Sparrow - Wendy McNeill
Cent
quinze
sur
la
rue
de
Belleville
dans
Paris
Marks
the
spot
where
I
was
not
born
But
the
myth
persists
because
my
life
was
chaotic
A
street
corner
birth
from
an
Italian
whore
Anetta
Giovani
Millard,
my
mother
Wandered
the
bars
and
the
fairgrounds
She
had
a
fling
with
a
circus
performer
Then
left
me
with
pap,
who
soon
handed
me
down
Sometimes
things
get
heavy
Sometimes
it's
too
much
Now
in
the
care
of
a
kind
brothel
Madame
Grandma
Gassion
did
the
best
that
she
could
This
upbringing
had
not
made
me
sentimental
When
a
boy
signalled
a
girl
I
figured
she
should
At
sixteen
years
old,
I
was
a
mother
By
seventeen,
I
was
on
with
my
life
When
little
Marcel
died
of
meningitis
I
started
singing
because
I
could
not
cry
Lewis
Leplais
was
the
club
owner
He
coaxed
me
on
stage
with
a
"la
môme
piaf"
I
was
the
rage
a
heartbreaking
beauty
But
I
broke
for
real,
when
they
found
him
dead
And
they
had
the
nerve
to
consider
me
a
suspect
Sometimes
things
get
heavy
Sometimes
it's
too
much
Stretch
just
a
bit
further
See
how
far
I
can
go
This
will
be
life
to
the
fullest
Rich,
'cause
I
am
the
sparrow
Some
people
think
I
was
unsympathetic
Because
in
my
notes
I
rarely
spoke
of
the
war
Pardonnez-moi,
I
was
a
little
bit
busy
Seeking
out
safety
and
lusting
for
more
More,
more,
more
Sometimes
it's
too
much
My
list
of
men
looked
like
a
phonebook
What
can
I
say
It
was
tragic
and
fun
I
had
my
last
at
forty-seven
He
was
twenty
years
fresher
I
like
them
young
Nineteen
sixty
three
I
recorded
my
last
song
Ailing
I
was
brought
to
the
coast
My
present
love
and
a
couple
of
others
Reasoned
with
me
as
I
feared
I
might
roast
Oh
mon
Dieu
Sometimes
things
get
heavy
Sometimes,
it's
too
much
Stretch,
just
a
bit
further
Guess,
this
is
my
time
to
go
Please,
won't
you
pray
to
Saint
Rita
To
take
care
of
her
sparrow
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