Saint CeCelia is in her garden
Pickin' paper violets
For all the wide-eyed children
Sadly clingin' to her dress
Singing, "Blessed be the heavenly
To hell with all the rest."
Her salvation is her virtue
But her sin's her emptiness
Cryin', "I'm unfeeling,"
She crawled into her shell
I said, "How can I be like Jesus
When I've just begun, myself?
To find my own way back, at times
I think I know me well
Then at other times a stranger's
Standin' where my body fell."
"Save the children, save the children,"
Cried the captain to the crew
For there can be salvation only
For a precious few
Who would leave this sinkin' ship
And build a balsa-wood canoe
And sail with me
Across this mighty water?
Saint CeCelia's in her garden
Singin', "Come into the fold."
But all her little children now
Would rather rock and roll
Singin', "Blessed be what is to be
Away with all that's old."
Oh, the silence is golden
But the lonliness is so cold
[Instrumental to end. Applause.]