As

the

snow

flies

On

a

cold

and

gray

Chi-

ca

-

go

mor-

nin'

A

poor

lit-

tle

ba-

by

child

is

born

In

the

ghet-

to

And

his

ma-

ma

cries

'Cause

if

there's

one

thing

that

she

don't

need

It's

a-

no-

ther

hung-

ry

mouth

to

feed

In

the

ghet-

to

Peo-

ple,

don't

you

un-

der-

stand

The

child

needs

a

hel

-

ping

hand

Or

he'll

grow

to

be

an

ang

-

ry

young

man

some

day

Take

a

look

at

you

and

me,

Are

we

too

blind

to

see?

Do

we

simp-

ly

turn

our

heads

and

look

the

o-

ther

way?

Well,

the

world

turns

And

a

hung-

ry

lit-

tle

boy

with

a

run-

ny

nose

Plays

in

the

street

as

the

cold

wind

blows

In

the

ghet-

to

And

his

hun-

ger

burns

So

he

starts

to

roam

the

streets

at

night

And

he

learns

how

to

steal,

and

he

learns

how

to

fight

In

the

ghet-

to

Then

one

night

in

des-

pe-

ra

-

tion

The

young

man

breaks

a-

way

He

buys

a

gun,

Steals

a

car,

Tries

to

run,

But

he

don't

get

far

And

his

ma-

ma

cries

As

a

crowd

ga-

thers

'round

an

ang

-

ry

young

man

Face

down

on

the

street

with

a

gun

in

his

hand

In

the

ghet-

to

And

as

her

young

man

dies,

On

a

cold

and

gray

Chi-

ca

-

go

mor-

nin',

A-

no-

ther

lit-

tle

ba-

by

child

is

born

In

the

ghet-

to

And

his

ma-

ma

cries