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Bogie man'll catch yo' sure unless yo' close yo' eyes, Waitin' jes outside de doo' to take yo' by surprise:

Bes' be keepin' shady,

Little colored lady,

Close yo' eyes in sleep.

Richard Henry Buck [1869

MINNIE AND WINNIE

MINNIE and Winnie slept in a shell.
Sleep, little ladies! And they slept well.
Pink was the shell within, silver without;
Sounds of the great sea wandered about.

Sleep, little ladies! Wake not soon!
Echo on echo dies to the moon.

Two bright stars peeped into the shell.

"What are they dreaming of? Who can tell?"

Started a green linnet out of the croft;

Wake, little ladies! The sun is aloft.

Alfred Tennyson [1809-1892]

BED-TIME SONG

SLEEP, my baby, while I sing
Bed-time news of everything.
Chickens run to mother hen;
Piggy curls up in the pen.
In the field, all tired with play,
Quiet now the lambkins stay.
Kittens cuddle in a heap-
Baby, too, must go to sleep!

Sleep, my baby, while I sing.
Bed-time news of everything.
Now the cows from pasture come;
Bees fly home with drowsy hum.
Little birds are in the nest,

Under mother-bird's soft breast.
Over all soft shadows creep-

Baby now must go to sleep.

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THE dark-fringed eyelids slowly close
On eyes serene and deep;

Upon my breast my own sweet child

Has gently dropped to sleep;
I kiss his soft and dimpled cheek,
I kiss his rounded chin,
Then lay him on his little bed,

And tuck my baby in.

How fair and innocent he lies;

Like some small angel strayed,

His face still warmed by God's own smile,
That slumbers unafraid;

Or like some new embodied soul,

Still pure from taint of sin

My thoughts are reverent as I stoop

To tuck my baby in.

What toil must stain these tiny hands
That now lie still and white?

What shadows creep across the face
That shines with morning light?
These wee pink shoeless feet-how far
Shall go their lengthening tread,
When they no longer cuddled close
May rest upon this bed?

O what am I that I should train
An angel for the skies;

Or mix the potent draught that feeds

The soul within these eyes?

93

I reach him up to the sinless Hands
Before his cares begin,-

Great Father, with Thy folds of love,
O tuck my baby in.

Curtis May [18

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But first put baith your big teeth

In his wee plump sides;

I

Gie your auld gray pow a shake,' -¡'I

Rive him frae my grup,

Tak' him whaur nae kiss is gaun
When he waukens up.

Whatna noise is that I hear

Coomin' doon the street?

Weel I ken the dump, dump, t. ďî

O' her beetle feet;

Mercy me! she's at the door!

Hear her lift the sneck;

Wheesht, an' cuddle mammy noo,

Closer roun' the neck.

Jenny wi' the airn teeth,

The bairn has aff his claes;

Sleepin' safe an' soun', I think— qua

Dinna touch his taes.

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Ye may turn aboot,

An' tak' awa' wee Tam next door→→T

I hear him screichin' oot. e

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Bigger bogies, bigger Jennies,.

Frichten muckle men.

* Alexander Anderson [1845-1909]

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Wi' muckle faucht an' din; 20! I "O, try an' sleep, ye waukrife rogues,

Your father's comin' in."

They never heed a word I speak;d orl I
I try to gie a froon, +dt dui a TH
But aye I hap them up, an' cry,de hed
"O bairnies, cuddle doon.".

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Wee Jamie wi' the curly heid-M
He aye sleeps next the wa

Bangs up an' cries, "I want a piece;"

The rascal starts them a'.

I rin an' fetch them pieces, drinks,
They stop awee the soun';
Then draw the blankets up an' cry,
"Noo, weanies, cuddle doon."

But ere five minutes gang, wee Rab
Cries oot, frae 'neath the claes,
"Mither, mak' Tam gie ower at once-
He's kittlin' wi' his taes."

The mischief's in that Tam for tricks,
He'd bother half the toon;
But aye I hap them up an' cry,
"O bairnies, cuddle doon."

At length they hear their father's fit,
An', as he steeks the door,

They turn their faces to the wa',

While Tam pretends to snore.

"Hae a' the weans been gude?" he asks, As he pits aff his shoon;

"The bairnies, John, are in their beds,

An' lang since cuddled doon."

An' just afore we bed oorsel's,

We look at oor wee lambs;

Tam has his airm roun' wee Rab's neck,

An' Rab his airm roun' Tam's.

I lift wee Jamie up the bed,

An' as I straik each croon,

I whisper, till my heart fills up, "O bairnies, cuddle doon.”

The bairnies cuddle doon at nicht
Wi' mirth that's dear to me;
But sune the big warl's cark an' care

Will quaten doon their glee.
Yet, come what will to ilka ane,

May He who sits aboon

Aye whisper, though their pows be bauld,

"O bairnies, cuddle doon."

Alexander Anderson [1845-1909]

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