I feel sorry for the angel
That has to follow me around.
That moaning, groaning that I hear
Is probably my angel’s sound.

This morning did he get worried
While I climbed up that old dead tree?
And was he the one that caught me
Before I fell and skinned my knee?

And later when I gave my friend’s
Red Rider BB gun a try
Wonder if it was my angel
Who was the one that saved my eye?

I think today was kinda tough
For my poor little angel friend.
I wonder if when I grow up
His duties here, with me, will end.

But just for him to live that long
I think his chances are quite slim.
Unless he also has an angel
Whose job is watching over him.