Written by Bruce Springsteen

At 16, she quit high school to make her fortune in
the Promised Land. She gor a job behind the
counter at 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.
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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.