Page:Seven English popular songs.pdf/5



Oh! rest thee babe, rest thee babe, sleep on till
 * day,

Oh! rest thee babe, rest thee babe, sleep while
 * you may.

Oh, hark thee, young Henry! thy sire is a
 * knight,

Thy mother a lady so lovely and bright; The hills and the dales from you tow’rs that I
 * see,

They all shall belong, my young Henry, to thee. Oh! rest thee babe, rest thee babe, sleep on till
 * day,

Oh! rest thee babe, rest thee babe, sleep while
 * you may.

T' night and the farmer his fireside near,
 * O’er a pipe quaff’d his ale stout and old;

The hinds were in bed, when a voice struck his
 * ear—

Let me in, I beseech you—just so ran the
 * prayer—
 * Let me in, I am dying with cold.

To his servant the farmer cry’d—Sue, move thy
 * feet,
 * And admit the poor wretch from the storm,

For our chimney will not lose a jot of its heat,