Thus they wipe their heads and eyes;

Cats, you know,

Wash just so,

Then their whiskers grow.

Flies have hairs too short to comb,

So they fly bareheaded home;

But the gnat

Wears a hat,

Do you believe that?

Flies can see

More than we.

So how bright their eyes must be!

Little fly,

Ope your eye;

Spiders are near by.

For a secret I can tell,

Spiders never use flies well.
Then away!

Do not stay.

Little fly, good-day!

CRADLE SONGS.

A LULLABY.

LADY NAIRne.

BALOO, loo, lammy, now baloo, my dear.
Does wee lammy ken that its daddy's no here?
Ye're rocking full sweetly on mammy's warm knee,
But daddy's a-rocking upon the salt sea.

Now hush-a-by, lammy, now hush-a-by, dear;
Now hush-a-by, lammy, for mother is near.

The wild wind is raving, and mammy's heart's sair;
The wild wind is raving, and ye dinna care.

Sing baloo, loo, lammy, sing baloo, my dear;
Sing baloo, loo, lammy, for mother is here.
My wee bairnie's dozing, it's dozing now fine,
And, oh, may its wakening be blither than mine!

LITTLE BIRDIE.

ALFRED TENNYSON.

WHAT does little birdie say,
In her nest at peep of day?
"Let me fly," says little birdie,
"Mother, let me fly away."

"Birdie, rest a little longer,
Till the little wings are stronger."
So she rests a little longer,
Then she flies away.

What does little baby say,
In her bed at peep of day?
Baby says, like little birdie,

"Let me rise and fly away.'
"Baby, sleep a little longer,
Till the little limbs are stronger.
If she sleeps a little longer,
Baby, too, shall fly away."

LULLABY.

ALFRED TENNYSON.

SWEET and low, sweet and low,
Wind of the western sea,

Low, low, breathe and blow,

Wind of the western sea!

Over the rolling waters go;

Come from the dying moon, and blow,
Blow him again to me;

While my little one, while my pretty one, sleeps.

Sleep and rest, sleep and rest;
Father will come to thee soon.
Rest, rest on mother's breast;

Father will come to thee soon.

Father will come to his babe in the nest;
Silver sails all out of the west,

Under the silver moon;

Sleep, my little one, sleep, my pretty one, sleep!

CRADLE SONG.

FROM THE GERMAN. TRANSLATED BY E. L. PRENTISS.

SLEEP, baby, sleep!

Thy father is watching the sheep!
Thy mother is shaking the dreamland tree,
And down drops a little dream for thee.
Sleep, baby, sleep!

Sleep, baby, sleep!

The great stars are the sheep,

The little stars are the lambs, I guess;
The bright moon is the shepherdess.

Sleep, baby, sleep!

Sleep, baby, sleep!

And cry not like a sheep,

Else the sheep-dog will bark and whine,
And bite this naughty child of mine.
Sleep, baby, sleep!

Sleep, baby, sleep!

Thy Saviour loves His sheep;

He is the Lamb of God on high,
Who, for our sakes, came down to die.
Sleep, baby, sleep!

Sleep, baby, sleep!

Away to tend the sheep,

Away, thou sheep-dog fierce and wild,
And do not harm my sleeping child!
Sleep, baby, sleep!

AN OLD GAELIC CRADLE-SONG.

ANONYMOUS.

HUSH! the waves are rolling in,

White with foam, white with foam: Father toils amid the din;

But baby sleeps at home.

Hush the winds roar hoarse and deep!
On they come, on they come !
Brother seeks the lazy sheep,
But baby sleeps at home.

Hush the rain sweeps o'er the knowes,
Where they roam, where they roam:

Sister goes to seek the cows;

But baby sleeps at home.

MOTHER GOOSE LULLABIES.

HUSHABY, baby, thy cradle is green;
Father's a nobleman, mother's a queen;
Sister's a lady, and wears a gold ring;

Brother's a drummer, and drums for the king.