A nature cries sweet lullabies
And every faith prays unchanged
A great man lies in bed, dying
And the sky is crying.

All races know of him,
From those battling desert sand storms,
To those sitting, staring at a screen,
The sky is crying.

Man great, yet not so proud
That he thought only him pure.
A Man who visited every child's home
A Man who loved his sheep.

Against the joys of Easter's season
As the LORD waits with us on Earth
To take upon man to heaven,
The Pope in his holy city dies.

Oh cry, oh cry, sweet lullabies
As every person sits and watches,
Tears beading in sorrowed eyes,
Beads restless in praying hands.