Whenever a little child is born,
All night a gentle breeze rocks the corn;
One more buttercup blooms in the morn,
Somewhere, somewhere.
And one more rosebud will soon unfold,
And one more birdsong the air will hold,
One more cricket whose tale will be told,
Somewhere, somewhere.
Whenever a little child is born,
All night a gentle breeze rocks the corn;
One more buttercup blooms in the morn,
Somewhere, somewhere.
