If God had a daughter her name would be Jane.
She’d sing sweet and softly and stop all the rain.

Her hair would be soft, as straight as can be.
She’d wear all white clothes, her eyes would be green.

Upon Jane’s small head there’s a crown that’s made of,
Small yellow flowers sent from heaven above.

She would always smile, she would never frown.
She’d wear a cross necklace the color of brown.

Her laugh is the call to sweet butterflies,
Whenever she calls they all flood the skies.

But no one is perfect, not even God’s Jane,
Though she did not steal or say God’s name in vain.

If Jane were perfect she’d live up above,
And live with her father and play with the doves.

But Jane is not perfect, she’s not up above,
Jane lives with us here, she’s here, filled with love

So next time you meet, a young angel like Jane,
Just stop, take your time, and ask her her name.