Honest bird, simple bird
Just longing to be spreading the word
Feeling the rain, feeling the sun
But your time has not come
Your song is not heard
Honest bird
Singing is forbidden in the fig tree
Singing is forbidden in the olive tree
Singing is forbidden in the pear tree
No singing in the olive or the fig or the pear tree
No more singing in the fig tree
No more singing in the pear tree
Someone’s hanging in the olive
There's someone hanging in the olive tree
Singing in the fig tree, that's forbidden
Singing in the pear tee, that’s forbidden
Singing in the olive, that's forbidden
Someone's hanging in the olive tree
Someone's hanging in the olive tree
You come to earth, you have no choice
Could be a seamstress or serving girl
Or butcher's boy
Could be a dead beat
Or one of the elite
Maybe the bird ill find his voice
And make a choice
From all the wheat and all the chaff
It's the knowledge that you glean
Makes you what you'll be
And the knowledge that you lack
A rod for your own back
Leaves you in purgatory
Honest bird, simple bird
