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Little Songs

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  In little Annie's garden    Grew all sorts of posies;  There were pinks, and mignonette,    And tulips, and roses.

  Sweet peas, and morning glories,    A bed of violets blue,  And marigolds, and asters,    In Annie's garden grew.

  There the bees went for honey,    And the humming-birds too;  And there the pretty butterflies    And the lady-birds flew.

  And there among her flowers,    Every bright and pleasant day,  In her own pretty garden    Little Annie went to play.


      Dear mother, how pretty      The moon looks to-night!  She was never so cunning before;      Her two little horns      Are so sharp and so bright,  I hope she'll not grow any more.

      If I were up there      With you and my friends,  I'd rock in it nicely you see;      I'd sit in the middle      And hold by both ends;  O, what a bright cradle 'twould be!

      I would call to the stars      To keep out of the way,  Lest we should rock over their toes,      And there I would rock      Till the dawn of the day,  And see where the pretty moon goes.

      And there we would stay      In the beautiful skies,  And through the bright clouds we would roam;      We would see the sun set,      And see the sun rise,  And on the next rainbow come home.


  Sleep, my baby, sleep, my boy;    Rest your little weary head;  'Tis your mother rocks her baby    In his little cradle bed.

Lullaby, sweet lullaby!

  All the little birds are sleeping,    Every one has gone to rest,  And my precious one is resting    In his pretty cradle nest.

Lullaby, sweet lullaby!

  Sleep, O, sleep, my darling boy;    Wake to-morrow fresh and strong;  'Tis your mother sits beside you,    Singing you a cradle song.

Lullaby, sweet lullaby!


  "Stop! stop! pretty water,"    Said Mary one day,  To a frolicsome brook    That was running away.


  "You run on so fast!    I wish you would stay;  My boat and my flowers    You will carry away."


  "But I will run after;    Mother says that I may;  For I would know where    You are running away."


  So Mary ran on;    But I have heard say  That she never could find    Where the brook ran away.


  I have a little doll;    I take care of her clothes;  She has soft flaxen hair;    And her name it is Rose.

  She has pretty blue eyes,    And a very small nose,  And a cunning little mouth;    My dear little Rose.

  I have a little sofa    Where my doll may repose,  Or sit up like a lady;    My knowing little Rose.

  My doll can move her arms,    And stand upon her toes;  Or make a pretty curtesy,    My funny little Rose.

  "How old is your dolly?"    Very young I suppose,  For she cannot go alone,    My precious little Rose....