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Hush Thee My Baby

Oh, hush thee my baby,

Thy sire was a knight,

Thy mother a lady,

Both lovely and bright;

The woods and the glens from

The towers which we see,

They are all belonging,

Dear baby, to thee.


O, fear not the bugle,

Though loudly it blows,

It calls but the warders

That guard they repose;

Their bows would be bended,

Their blades would be red,

Ere the step of a foeman

Draws near to thy bed,


O, hush thee my baby,

The time soon will come

When thy sleep shall be broken

By trumpet and drum;

Then hush thee, my darling,

Take rest while you may,

For strife comes with manhood

And waking with the day.


› Hush Thee My Baby

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