A Sweet Lullaby
Come, little babe, come, silly soul,
Thy father's shame, thy mother's grief,
Born as I doubt to all our dole,
And to thyself unhappy chief:
Sing and lap it warm,
Poor soul that thinks no creature harm.
Come, little babe, come, silly soul,
Thy father's shame, thy mother's grief,
Born as I doubt to all our dole,
And to thyself unhappy chief:
Sing and lap it warm,
Poor soul that thinks no creature harm.
William Browne
