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Phil Coulter
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Scorn Not His Simplicity
Scorn Not His Simplicity
See the child, with the golden hair, But eyes that show the emptiness inside
Do we know, can we understand just how he feels, Or have we really tried
See him now, as he stands alone and watches
Children play a children's game
Simple child, he looks almost like the others, Yet they know he's not the same
Scorn not his simplicity, but rather try to love him all the more
Scorn not his simplicity, Oh no, Oh no
See him stare, not recognizing that kind face, That only yesterday he loved
The loving face of a mother, who can't understand, What she's been guilty of
How she cried, tears of happiness, The day the doctor told her:'
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It's a boy'
Now she cries, tears of helplessness, And thinks of all the things he can't enjoy
Scorn not his simplicity, But rather try to love him all the more
Scorn not his simplicity, Oh no, Oh no
Only he knows, how to face the future, Hopefully surrounded by despair
He won't ask for your pity or your sympathy, But surely you should care
Scorn not his simplicity, But rather try to love him all the more
Scorn not his simplicity, Oh no, Oh no, Oh no
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