Cradle Songs and Nursery Rhymes

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Grace Little Rhys
W. Scott, limited, 1894 - 275 páginas

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Página 277 - up in spite, He shall find their sharpest thorns In his bed at night. Up the airy mountain, Down the rushy glen, We daren't go a-hunting For fear of little men ; Wee folk, good folk, Trooping all together; Green jacket, red cap, And white owl's feather ! William
Página 114 - RHYMES. The Old Woman who Lived in a Shoe. There was an old woman who lived in a shoe, She had so many children, she didn't know what to do ; She gave them some broth without any bread, She whipped them all soundly and put them to bed.
Página 267 - Wee folk, good folk, Trooping all together; Green jacket, red cap, And white owl's feather ! Down along the rocky shore Some make their home, They live on crispy pancakes Of yellow tide-foam; Some in the reeds Of the black mountain lake, With frogs for their watchdogs, All night awake.
Página 58 - A Cradle Song. Hush ! my dear, lie still and slumber; Holy angels guard thy bed ! Heavenly blessings without number Gently falling on thy head. Soft and easy is thy cradle : Coarse and hard thy Saviour lay : When his birthplace was a stable, And his softest bed was hay. See the kindly shepherds round him, Telling wonders from the sky
Página 124 - Days of Birth. Monday's child is fair in face, Tuesday's child is full of grace, Wednesday's child is full of woe, Thursday's child has far to go, Friday's child is loving and giving, Saturday's child works hard for its living, And a child that's born on the Sabbath day Is fair and wise and good and gay.
Página 188 - Tis neither good for man nor beast; When the wind is in the north, The skilful fisher goes not forth ; When the wind is in the south, It blows the bait in the fishes' mouth ; When the wind is in the west Then 'tis at the very best.
Página 85 - The White Paternoster. Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John, Bless the bed that I lie on 1 Four corners to my bed, Five angels there lie spread ; Two at my head, Two at my feet, One at my heart, my soul to keep.
Página 260 - Baby. Where did you come from, baby dear ? Out of the everywhere into here. Where did you get those eyes so blue ? Out of the sky as I came through. What makes the light in them sparkle and spin ? Some of the starry twinkles left in. Where did you get that little tear ? I found it waiting when I got here.
Página 58 - Soft and easy is thy cradle : Coarse and hard thy Saviour lay : When his birthplace was a stable, And his softest bed was hay. See the kindly shepherds round him, Telling wonders from the sky ! Where they sought him, there they found With his Virgin Mother by.
Página 109 - The North Wind. The north wind doth blow, And we shall have snow, And what will poor Robin do then, poor thing? He'll sit in a barn, And keep himself warm, And hide his head under his wing, poor thing.

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