Many Mansions - Moe Bandy/Carol Ann Etheridge
Composed by：Carol Ann Etheridge
Hope is a thing with feathers
That perches on the soul
Said the homeless young man
Standing there strong against the cold
I reached into my pocket
Said a penny for your poetry
But when I handed him a dollar bill
He was shaking his head at me
And he said these words to me
In my father's house are many mansions
Though tonight some make their beds along the streets
Where I've seen lives still by winter's bitter chill
In my father's house there's a mansion for me
Sleep is a silent pleasure
Behind doors with deadbolt locks
But it's a concrete nightmare chance you take
On the streets in a cardboard box
But I know about the eye of the needle
What will come to pass
When the least of us shall be first
And the first now shall be last
Who's homeless now I ask
In my father's house are many mansions
Though tonight some make their beds along the streets
Where I've seen lives still by winter's bitter chill
In my father's house there's a mansion for me
In my father's house are many mansions
Though tonight some make their beds along the streets
Where I've seen lives still by winter's bitter chill
In my father's house there's a mansion for me
