The rook’s nest do rock on the tree-top
Where vew foes can stand;
The martin’s is high, an’ is deep
In the steep cliff o’ zand.
But thou, love, a-sleepen where vootsteps
Mid come to thy bed,
Hast father an’ mother to watch thee
An’ shelter thy head.
Lullaby, Lilybrow. Lie asleep;
Blest be thy rest.
An’ zome birds do keep under ruffen
Their young vrom the storm,
An’ zome wi’ nest-hoodens o’ moss
And o’ wool, do lie warm.
An’ we wull look well to the houseruf
That o’er thee mid leaek,
An’ the blast that mid beaet on thy winder
Shall not smite thy cheaek.
Lullaby, Lilibrow. Lie asleep;
Blest be thy rest.