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SONGS FOR THE NURSERY.
Rumbling, tumbling all about,
Crowing like a cock, Screaming like, I don't know what,
Waking sleeping folk.
"Hey! Willie Winkie,
Can't you keep him still? Wriggling off a body's knee
Like a very eel; Pulling at the cat's ear
As she drowsy hums; Hey, Willie Winkie!
See ! there he comes!"
Wearied is the mother
That has a restless wean, A wee, stumpy bairnie,
Heard whene'er he's seen. That has a battle aye with sleep
Before he'll close an e'e; But a kiss from off his rosy lips
Gives strength anew to me.
A SLEEPING CHILD.
Arthur Hugh Clough.
Lips, lips, open!
Up comes a little bird that lives inside,
Up comes a little bird and peeps, and out he flies.
All the day he sits inside, and sometimes he sings; Up he comes, and out he goes at night to spread his wiugs.
Little bird, little bird, whither will you go ? Round about the world while nobody can know.
Little bird, little bird, whither do you flee ?
Far away round the world while nobody can see.
Little bird, little bird, how long will you roam ? All round the world and around again home.
Round the round world, and back through the air; When the morning comes, the little bird is there.