There's not a rose where'er I seek, And it's O! sweet, sweet! and a lullaby. There's not a star that shines on high, And it's O! sweet, sweet! and a lullaby. No silk was ever spun so fine As is the hair of baby mine. My baby smells more sweet to me Than smells in spring the elder tree. A little fish swims in the well, A little flower blows on the tree, My baby is the flower to me. And it's O! sweet, sweet! and a lullaby. The Queen has sceptre, crown and ball, Ten thousand parks where deer do run, And it's O! sweet, sweet! and a lullaby. A LULLABY UPON my lap my sovereign sits Meanwhile his love sustains my life And gives my body rest. Sing lullaby, my little boy, Sing lullaby, mine only joy! Unknown A Cradle Hymn When thou hast taken thy repast, So may thy mother and thy nurse Sing lullaby, my little boy, I grieve that duty doth not work Sing lullaby, my little boy, Yet as I am, and as I may, Sing lullaby, my little boy, 75 Richard Rowlands [fl. 1565-1620] A CRADLE HYMN HUSH! my dear, lie still and slumber, Sleep, my babe; thy food and raiment, All without thy care or payment: How much better thou'rt attended Soft and easy is thy cradle: Coarse and hard thy Saviour lay, When His birthplace was a stable And His softest bed was hay. Blessed babe! what glorious features- Was there nothing but a manger Soft, my child: I did not chide thee, "Tis thy mother sits beside thee, Yet to read the shameful story How the Jews abused their King, How they served the Lord of Glory, Makes me angry while I sing. See the kinder shepherds round Him, Where they sought Him, there they found Him, See the lovely babe a-dressing; Lovely infant, how He smiled! When He wept, the mother's blessing Soothed and hushed the holy child. Lo, He slumbers in His manger, Peace, my darling; here's no danger, 'Twas to save thee, child, from dying, Save my dear from burning flame, Bitter groans and endless crying, That thy blest Redeemer came. Lullaby May'st thou live to know and fear Him, Isaac Watts [1674-1748] 77 CRADLE SONG SLEEP, sleep, beauty bright, Sweet babe, in thy face As thy softest limbs I feel O the cunning wiles that creep When thy little heart doth wake, Then the dreadful night shall break. William Blake (1757-1827] LULLABY BALOO, loo, lammy, now baloo, my dear, Does wee lammy ken that its daddy's no here? Now hushaby, lammy, now hushaby, dear; Now hushaby, lammy, for mother is near. The wild wind is raving, and mammy's heart's sair; The wild wind is raving, and ye dinną care, Sing baloo, loo, lammy, sing baloo, my dear; LULLABY OF AN INFANT CHIEF O, HUSH thee, my babie, thy sire was a knight, The woods and the glens, from the towers which we see, O ho ro, i ri ri, cadul gu lo. O, fear not the bugle, though loudly it blows, O, hush thee, my babie, the time soon will come, Walter Scott [1771-1832] GOOD-NIGHT LITTLE baby, lay your head Shut your eye-peeps, now the day Yes, my darling, well I know |