I listen and I hear a song on the breeze.
I look and I see men fall on their knees.
Coming toward me is a grand procession;
Some are priests and those of like profession.
As they come by I join in and follow.
And when it ends my heart fills with sorrow.
Children throw flowers in front of the crowd,
And rarely is seen the sign of a cloud.
Birds by hundreds come and join us in singing;
When they see what it is we are bringing.
Many may wonder what great sight we see,
But for the most it will remain a mystery.
For only a Catholic could understand;
How a man could hold his God in his hand.
