Hush, bonnie, dinna greit; Moder will rocke her sweete, -- Balow, my boy! When that his toile ben done, Daddie will come anone, -- Hush thee, my lyttel one; Balow, my boy!
Gin thou dost sleepe, perchaunce Fayries will come to daunce, -- Balow, my boy! Oft hath thy moder seene Moonlight and mirkland queene Daunce on thy slumbering een, -- Balow, my boy!
Then droned a bomblebee Saftly this songe to thee: "Balow, my boy! " And a wee heather bell, Pluckt from a fayry dell, Chimed thee this rune hersell: "Balow, my boy!"
Soe, bonnie, dinna greit; Moder doth rock her sweete, -- Balow, my boy! Give mee thy lyttel hand, Moder will hold it and Lead thee to balow land, -- Balow, my boy!
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