 | A merry-go-round of song |  |
124
UNCLE BARTY'S LULLABY
(Sung by him while playing the nursery piano)
Now the sun himself is rocking in his cradle of the west,
And my Chickabids are lying rosy, cosy in the nest,
With a doll and toy and picture-book beneath the pillows prest,
As the notes bob up and down for Uncle Barty.
And my Chickabids are lying rosy, cosy in the nest,
With a doll and toy and picture-book beneath the pillows prest,
As the notes bob up and down for Uncle Barty.
As I see each cosy, rosy, human posy lying there,
In a gown as clean as milk, with moonlight kissing curly hair,
I am thankful to the God who put these Flowers in my care,
And am glad to be their precious Uncle Barty.
In a gown as clean as milk, with moonlight kissing curly hair,
I am thankful to the God who put these Flowers in my care,
And am glad to be their precious Uncle Barty.
And it's twenty thousand times a week my happy heart is told
That the joy we make for one another never can grow cold;
For my blue-eyed, dew-eyed Chickabids will want me when I'm old,
And will always turn in love to Uncle Barty.
That the joy we make for one another never can grow cold;
For my blue-eyed, dew-eyed Chickabids will want me when I'm old,
And will always turn in love to Uncle Barty.
Now the time has come to sit by fairy bonfires on the hill,
Or to watch the hairy, fairy farmers carry corn to mill,
While the rosy, cosy, blue-eyed, dew-eyed Chickabids lie still
In the room and bed and breast of Uncle Barty.
Or to watch the hairy, fairy farmers carry corn to mill,
While the rosy, cosy, blue-eyed, dew-eyed Chickabids lie still
In the room and bed and breast of Uncle Barty.
125
In the morning they will shake themselves like daffodils in breeze,
And will rush to find upon the pane the frosty ferns and trees;
And at last will scamper down the stairs to climb their favourite knees,
For to kiss the welcome face of Uncle Barty.
And will rush to find upon the pane the frosty ferns and trees;
And at last will scamper down the stairs to climb their favourite knees,
For to kiss the welcome face of Uncle Barty.
Now I bid each cosy, rosy, human posy fall asleep,
For the mellow bells of Cradleshire their drowsy ding-dong keep;
And the Angel of the Bedside wants to bend him down to peep
At the creamy, dreamy babes of Uncle Barty.
For the mellow bells of Cradleshire their drowsy ding-dong keep;
And the Angel of the Bedside wants to bend him down to peep
At the creamy, dreamy babes of Uncle Barty.
Sleep, my creamy, dreamy, beamy babes in heart-delighting grace,
For the robins out of Slumberland are winging near apace,
And are ready on your eyelids fairy leaves and flowers to place,
When your lips have cooed farewell to Uncle Barty.
For the robins out of Slumberland are winging near apace,
And are ready on your eyelids fairy leaves and flowers to place,
When your lips have cooed farewell to Uncle Barty.
| A merry-go-round of song | |