The chorus of "All God's Critters" by Bill Staines:
All God's critters got a place in the choir
Some sing low, some sing higher
Some sing out loud on the telephone wire
And some just clap their hands, or paws
Or anything they got now.
It reminds me of the philosophy of time-banking -- that everyone has something to contribute.
It also reminds me of my own struggle. I can't figure out what is my place in this world. Am I one to sing, one to clap my hands, or one to clap my paws? Or is there something else I can do?