We took the train to Bruxelles
Eddie had a girlfriend there
They fell into each others arms
So I'd plenty of time to spare
In the "Welcome Bar" they all spoke French
but sometimes strange things happen
I picked up a couple of words or three
And two of them were music to me
The name of Derroll Adams

Took him down to the bar next day
He sipped scotch and coke
And I hung on to every word
And he stopped shakin' and joked
"When some folks drink they get so stoned
they end up fallin over.
The opposite seems to happen to me,
An hour ago I was stumbling see,
Me and my tongue just couldnt agree
Now I drink till I get sober"

We took our instruments to town
I was trying too hard to impress
I had to learn to play it soft
I must have been OK I guess
Little birdie little birdie
That was what we sang
I was twenty one with a big guitar
Flown the nest left the door ajar
Pickin' out tunes in a Belgian bar
With the tattooed banjo man

That birdie little birdie
Must have been a dove
He had hate written on his left hand
His picking hand was love

When I got back to Paris
It was early in sixty six
I'd locked that evening in my mind
Though I doubt if he did in his
A few francs and a handshake
Sweet as a soft shoe shuffle
A little bird's feather fell that night
Across the street from the neon light
Silently and out of sight
Under a winter moon so bright
Cracked the frosty pavement right
In the cobbled stoned heart of Bruxelles
Litle birdie little birdie
Must have been a dove
Hate was written on his left hand
Picking hand was love - sweet love

Ramblin's a decision made
Whilst heads still rule our hearts
Moving on means something else
Than having to depart
A feather fell to the pavement
I was lucky to watch it down
And it fell with a whisper not a shout
There wasn't anybody else about
But someone saw a star go out
Over Portland town