You can't write a novel from a briefcase 
 You can write a poem from a trench 
 You can dream a dream from A to B 
 But you can't catch a bus from a bench 

 You don't back a horse called Striding Snail 
 You don't name your boat Titanic II 
 So why when I see your happy smiling face 
 Do I always end up singing Little Blue 

 Little Blue, how do you do 
 Your smile looks like heaven 
 but your eyes hold a storm about to brew 
 Little Blue 
 How can a flower so pretty 
 be so laden down with dew 
 Little Blue 

 How can a flower so beautiful
 be so laden down with dew 
 Little Blue 

 You can't build a brewery on a cemetery 
 You can build a pub on a church 
 And people fall quicker than buildings do 
 You have to decide what comes first 

 You don't call a plane the Flying Roman 
 'Cause the Romans always walked and never flew 
 So why when I see your happy smiling face 
 Do I always end up singing Little Blue 

 Little Blue, how do you do 
 Your smile looks like heaven 
 but your eyes hold a storm about to brew 
 Little Blue 
 How can a flower so pretty 
 be so laden down with dew 
 Little Blue 

 Well Bukowski wrote a story from a barstool 
 And Keats from the top of a hill 
 So I'm going to save my special song for you 
 From a grave where it's quiet and it's chill 

 'Cause there's a queue of clouds assembled 
 On the horizon of your smile 
 When most think that you're holding back 
 I know you're holding bile 

 Little Blue, how do you do 
 Your smile looks like heaven 
 but your eyes hold a storm about to brew 
 Little Blue 
 How can a flower so pretty 
 be so laden down with dew 
 Little Blue 

 How can a flower so beautiful
 be so laden down with dew 
 Little Blue