Nothing New

I wish I could sing
My own song for my king
That he’s never heard
But he’s heard it all
His voice it beckons me,
“Sing, Sing, oh Little One.”
I have nothing new.

Anything that I could say
Has already been said
By prophets of poets
or princes or thieves.
Why do you need me?

I wish I could use
My own words to amuse you
Like you’ve never heard
But you’ve heard it all
Your voice still beckons me,
“Sing, sing, Child anyway.”
I have nothing new.

Anything that I could say
Has already been said
By prophets of poets
or princes or thieves.
Why do you need me?

Why me?