(Written by Bruce Springsteen) At 16, she quit
high school, to make her fortune in the Promised
Land. She got a job behind the counter at an

all-night hamburger stand. She wrote faithfully
home to Mama, "Now mama, don't you worry none.
From small things, Mama, big things one day come."

It was late one Friday, he pulled in out of the
dark. He was tall and handsome. First she took his
order, then she took his heart. They bought a

house up on a hillside where little feet would
soon run. From small things, Mama, big things one
day come. Oh, but luck was fleeting. It's sad but

it's true. When your heart is bleeding, you don't
want to hear it abused. She packed her bags and
went to Wyoming with a real estate man. She drove

down to Tampa in an Eldorado Grand. She wrote
back, "Dear Mama, life is just heaven in the sun.
From small things, Mama, big things one day come."

Well, she shot him dead on a sunny Florida road.
When they caught her, all she said was she
couldn't stand the way he drove. Back home,

lonesome Johnny waits for his baby's parole. He
waits high on the hillside where the wide-open
rivers roll. At his feet and almost grown now, a

blue-eyed daughter and a handsome son. From small
things, Mama, big things one day come. From small
things, Mama, big things one day come.