He’s a curly-headed angel
Who wears sandals with his socks
Practicing his trumpet on windy loading docks
Until his music flies away
And makes him think of wings
So, after running after them, he gets his guitar and sings
He’s an angel wearing glasses
If he sees you on his way
He’ll stop and talk and smile like it’s the highlight of his day
And then he’s off to study more
Where does he really go?
Perhaps he flies to heaven – we’ll never really know.
He’s a funny-looking angel
And he’s standing in the pew
The church is dark, he’s all alone, he knows not what to do
Even angels need a hug
They too have tears to shed
So hold your angel, hold him tight, and bless his curly head.