[Poems by Drake in] The life and works of Joseph Rodman Drake (1795-1820) | ||
175
Song
(AIR, “WHAT YE WHA”)
Oh! go to sleep, my baby dear,
And I will hold thee on my knee;
Thy mother's in her winding-sheet,
And thou art all that's left to me.
My hairs are white with grief and age,
I've borne the weight of every ill,
And I would lay me with my child,
But thou art left to love me still.
And I will hold thee on my knee;
Thy mother's in her winding-sheet,
And thou art all that's left to me.
My hairs are white with grief and age,
I've borne the weight of every ill,
And I would lay me with my child,
But thou art left to love me still.
Should thy false father see thy face,
The tears would fill his cruel e'e,
But he has scorned thy mother's woe,
And he shall never look on thee.
But I will rear thee up alone,
And with me thou shalt aye remain;
For thou wilt have thy mother's smile,
And I shall see my child again.
The tears would fill his cruel e'e,
But he has scorned thy mother's woe,
And he shall never look on thee.
But I will rear thee up alone,
And with me thou shalt aye remain;
For thou wilt have thy mother's smile,
And I shall see my child again.
[Poems by Drake in] The life and works of Joseph Rodman Drake (1795-1820) | ||