One day I found a friend, he was up by Badgers End,
A little pigeon fell down by my feet.
His feathers was flecked with red and at first I thought he was dead,
Then I knelt and I felt his little heart still beat.
I cupped him in my hands and I ran home to my mam,
And she said, "Son, I'm as proud of you as I can be.
You're thoughtful and you're kind, and you've got a gentle mind,
And that will do a treat for your old father's tea.
I said, "You shall not touch my bird," and without another word,
I took him in my room and I shut the door,
And then I bathed and I warmed him and I nursed him back to health,
'Cause you see, I'd never really had a friend before.
Dad said, "You ought to let him go," and Mum, she said, "Oh no,
You just want to get some shooting practice in."
But the vicar said, "My son, it really isn't done,
And to lock up a wild thing, that's a sin."
One morning when it was all still, I took him up to Badgers Hill,
I lost the only little friend I had that day.
Not a word I said, I just kissed his little head,
And I opened my hands and I watched him fly away.
He circled up and 'round, and then he settled on the ground,
And off he went straight up to the sky.
And then I looked and I could see he was flying back to me,
And then he swooped and he pooped right in my eye.